


The Last Reset

by clueless_nameless



Series: Undertale(s): The Last Reset and Other Lines [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, like literally the slowest burn you ever did see, sorry but this is probably gon be a little heavy at times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 102,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clueless_nameless/pseuds/clueless_nameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You never managed to make it. Never once had you freed everyone like you'd always wanted. Always somehow and somewhere along your path you managed to die. This time, though. This time was different. This one, unlike your other runs, this one was the one you were ready for. This was the one that would be your last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undertale?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! If you'd like to contact me for any reason or have any requests, comments, etc, feel free to follow one of the links below!  
> [My personal Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyou.tumblr.com/)  
> [Writing Blog](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been quite a long time since I've written (years, like five to be exact), but Undertale has dragged me into fandom-hell, and I can't escape. I'm planning for this to be a retelling of Undertale (an Undertale AU). So, the dialogues of certain characters will change, though sometimes it will bear similarities to the actual game. I apologize if my writing is awkward or hard to understand, I'm very rusty.

It hurt. Everything hurt. You sat, huddled, in a dark room. The light in the hallway flickered on and off. Faintly, though it was growing in volume, you could hear yelling through your shut door. It was the same as always. You were, alone, sad, and hurting all alone in your small bedroom. Your mother had just returned home, she was with someone, you couldn’t guess at who it could possibly be. Probably some unknown man, it was always some unknown guy. You wished it was your father. It never would be, though.

You could only sit still and wait until she decided to turn her wrath upon you.

You didn’t want to do this anymore. How could you, a mere eight year old, sit idly by and listen to the rants and raves you’d heard all your short life? It wasn’t fair. Your mother blamed you for everything. She told you how worthless you were, how selfish you were. It was enough to make you believe them. Maybe you were worthless, maybe you were garbage... Her words hurt, but the insults were where it stopped, she never raised a fist at you nor did you see any future that she would ever hit you, because as always, once she set the bottle down, once the sharp stench of drinks faded, you could see the dimmed light return to her tired and broken eyes and she’d whisper out a dull “I’m sorry.”

It wasn't enough, but it was something. Not enough to fix all your broken cracks, but enough to make it hurt just a little bit less.

But this wasn’t one of those times. The silence hit you hard. She walked in, eyes gleaming. “I don’t want you. Get out, you worthless brat.”

Then her hand raised and you, not knowing to flinch and move, were struck in the face. Then again. And again. “You worthless brat, you’re the reason I can't afford anything. I work so hard. So fucking hard just to get by and you… you little urchin, you parasite, you eat away at all my earnings and hard work…”

You signed something quickly—a hurried apology.

“Stop pretending you can’t speak, what happened to your _sweet, innocent, little voice?_ ” She remarked snidely. You began to remember, it felt like a lifetime ago, that time before your grandmother had passed. Before your father gave up on you. A different time, when you used to sing softly to your drunken mother… and she would sniffle quietly. There was no yelling though, she saved that for your father, but there wasn’t exactly love, either. That was before… and this was now… Her mocking laughter hit you, “your precious daddy left because of you. He couldn’t deal with you. He couldn’t deal with a mentally unstable daughter.” You wanted to whisper, spite seeping into your thoughts, _he couldn’t deal with you, either._ But you don’t, because you know deep down, inside, that she already knew it was her fault. Yet, another part of you also knew, it was no one’s fault.

Your eyes watered, but you swallowed back your risings sobs, you couldn’t cry, it would only make things worse. Shaking, you clenched and unclenched your fists, your face stung, but you couldn’t move, you didn’t want to draw attention to the fact she had hurt you.

Slowly you began to detach yourself, trying to lessen the pain as you distanced yourself from the situation.

You thought wishfully of the snowy days. The days when you were too young to understand how unhappy the world was. When you would just hold your mother’s hand, your father’s hand. You would jump through the fluffy snow. The crisp crunch as it squished beneath your too-big boots was always so satisfying. You breathed out heavily, the steam that came from your mouth made you smile. You were a dragon. You were invincible. Just one huff and puff and you could fight the whole world! But you wouldn’t, hurting people wasn’t a nice thing to do! You’d never hurt anybody. But, the idea of being powerful was somewhat appeasing, especially when you were so small. Especially when the bullies were always so much bigger than you.

“Our rent is late. I have to work more tomorrow. I won’t be able to get you from school…” her words snapped you back to attention and you noticed the lack of anger in her eyes. There was a lack of anything in her eyes. You wished she would apologize, but you know it was hopeless. Gently she touched your cheek, her cool hand moved to smooth your messy brown hair back. “There was a man at work today, he looked so much like your father. I couldn’t stand it, I went to the bars and came home with someone. He yelled though, he thought I was single, he thought I had no baggage. Then he saw your door, he saw the stickers you’d set there. He saw the messily scribbled drawing on the fridge.” She whispered, her breath harsh to your sensitive nose. “I just wanted to have some fun, but as always, I can’t because of you.” Her voice took on a spiteful tone.

“I’m tired.” Cautiously you nodded in agreement, and shakily stood. Your legs were stiff after staying crouched for so long.

You only wish you’d known what was coming. You wish you’d known that life was just going to keep getting harder. It seemed that a line had been crossed that day, and she would never traipse her way back over it. She didn’t bring people home anymore at least, but every time she came home she smelled strongly of a bitter substance. She glared at you, and berated you. She blamed you vehemently, and then she’d slap you. Yet, as always, within an hour or so of doing these things, she’d stumble around and begin to explain her problems to you, as though to excuse her abuse. It was a vicious cycle. She needed help, but she couldn’t get it. You needed help, but you couldn’t get it.

It was an endless loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1, we learn about Frisk's(8) unhappy home-life.


	2. It's Not All Fairies and Pixie Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a lot of it written, but I want to edit over the rest of my chapters a lot more than I may have done with these two. I apologize again for clunky writing.

It was on your twelfth birthday that you’d decided to call it quits. You packed a small faded-pink backpack with a few bits of food, a pair of extra socks and an extra sweater. The snow was harsh outside, but staying inside was an impossible task. You just couldn’t do it—couldn't do _this_ anymore.

Carefully you tied the laces to your black boots. They would do just fine in this weather. There were about five hours of daylight to guide you, and at least seven hours before your mother would come home and if all went well, you’d be far from here by that time.  _Far from her._

Your eye stung, it was nearly swollen shut from the black bruise that had formed overnight. It wasn’t something that could be hidden with a little makeup or a scarf. So, after your mother had left home, you stayed home from school—not wanting to deal with questioning adults at school. On the bright side, it had given you a few extra hours to weigh your options. You knew couldn’t do it anymore, you couldn’t sit here forever and wait. It was hurting too much. However, you couldn’t just up and leave without saying goodbye, and so, thinking quickly, you wrote a short note. _“I’m sorry, goodbye, love, Frisk”._

You weren't sure you loved her, but she _was_ your mother, so you had to, right? Either way, the short note would have to do. The messy scrawl, quickly taped to the fridge would have to be enough.

It was time to go.

The rumors about Mount Ebott had always intrigued you. In another life time, when the sky roared with thunder and the rain drummed on your window and you’d be curled in a plush bed made just for times like these, a mug of freshly poured tea clasped in your small hands, you would be listening intently as your grandmother told you about the mountain and its infamous history. Sometimes you’d imagine yourself a lost girl, roaming the land, and finding a magical world amongst the rocks. You’d always hoped it’d be a fairyland. You thought that’d be cool.

You missed your grandmother dearly. Her frizzy auburn hair and her crooked smile. She had wrinkled hands and laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. You missed the softness of her voice and the fact that she understood both your small words and your silences. You missed sitting on the couch with her on the weekends after mom and dad had fought and their harsh smell stuffed your nose and she’d come… she’d come to protect you. To save you. She would pat your head, grab your hand, and leave the house.

You missed her.

It was with the warm memories of her that you started your trek toward the mountain. You were filled with determination.

But… even with your determination, it was still exhausting to walk up the overgrown trails on Mount Ebott. There was a rock in your shoe that you tried to ignore, and it was freezing outside, but at least because of the trees, most of the snow could not accumulate on the ground. It didn’t make it much easier though, you still had to fight through brambles and barren bushes. The bruise on your knee stung from earlier when your mother had pushed you down, and you’d only acquired more cuts and scratches from your semi-treacherous hike. The sun looked to be setting, so you figured you’d better start looking for a place to stop.

The wind rustled the needles of a large evergreen tree, for the most part it seemed like the tree overshadowed a clearing; the snow was piled invitingly around it. Maybe you’d stop there, it looked like a nice place to sit and rest. You could even take a small moment to romp in the snow—you were never too tired to play and frolic in the snow!

A small sigh escaped your lips and you glanced at the pale sky. The clouds rolled lazily across and it looked about ready to snow again. One foot forward, and another. Your determination led you closer and closer to the large tree until suddenly. Nothing. Your foot touched nothing, and you couldn’t catch yourself in time. The world crumbled beneath you. Down, down, down you fell. You hit something hard and that was the last thing you remembered.

A soft murmur awoke you. Blearily, you opened your eyes. Your forehead felt like fire and gingerly you touched it. A large cut was present. There was also a fire in your leg, even worse than the gash marking your head. You didn’t want to move, it hurt so much. Gradually though, you began to feel an urgent need to get moving. A sense of unease was filling you. Something, somewhere, was watching you. You sat up and took in your surroundings, under your sore self were bright golden flowers. A pang of regret hit you. “Sorry,” you whispered to the crushed flowers. You guessed that they had softened your landing. Looking up, you could barely see the hole in which you’d tumbled through. How… how had you survived that fall?

“Finally awake?” The voice startled you and you squeaked with fright, looking around for the source. “Ah! Howdy! I’m Flowey. Flowey the flower! You’re new to the Underground, aren’tcha?” Apparently flowers could talk. At least it seemed so, since the little golden thing had just winked and introduced itself. Something made you feel nervous about his overly friendly tone. It hit a nerve, you were reminded of the parent-teacher conferences you’d had to sit through. This flower had the same falsely sweet jovial tone that your mother always took as she patted your hair down too roughly and lathered too many empty compliments on you. It was so hollow sounding.

“Golly, you must be so confused. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!” Suddenly, you felt a wrenching feeling from your chest until a red glow was emitted. You cupped your hand to your chest, looking at the thing that appeared. A red heart. It felt important, you needed to protect it. Ignoring your sudden glow, the flower continued with his odd explanation… _The pellets were meant to heal?_ You felt incredulous about this and by pure instinct when the pellets came closer, you flinched out of the way. The pain in your leg flared up which made you feel sick.

“ _Are you stupid?”_ Flowey asked, frustration evident. He tried again, and yet again you moved to dodge the ‘pellets’. _“You know what's going on here, don't you? Ha… You idiot.”_ Flowey’s face began to transform and his laugh sounded downright demonic. You could only watch in horror as your jaw clenched. _“D I E.”_ The flower cackled.

Maybe, just maybe, you could try to stand… try to stumble away out of this monster’s path, as best you could. Or maybe you should just let it happen… you had nowhere to hide, anyways. It was pointless, wasn’t it? _You existence was pointless._ When the bullets moved toward you, surrounding you, you let your eyes shut softly. It was pointless to fight. Life was so clearly not yours to have. You were ready as ever to just...  _let go._

Your death never came though.

“Are you ok?” You glanced up with watery eyes. The pain of the fall, of your feelings, of everything was too much. You blacked out.

You awoke to find yourself in a soft bed. You half expected your grandmamma to walk through the door with a steaming mug. Maybe you had died, maybe instead of the eternal punishment you’d expected, you’d ended up in heaven somehow. Ah, no, you felt the pain once more as your sense returned to you. Your leg burned but your forehead merely itched, and the pain you’d felt was noticeably less than when you first awoke in this nightmare.

Nightmare? It didn’t seem like one anymore. The room was washed in a light pink shade. There was a small dresser by the bed with an empty and dust covered picture frame sitting atop it. You eyed the small book you found played on top of the table. It looked like a joke book of some sort.

With increasing worry, you glanced over the rest of the room, there was a small box of toys, a large wardrobe, and… not much else. It looked like someone lived there, yet it looked like they hadn’t lived there in years. You hope they didn’t mind you staying here, wherever _here_ was.

“Ah, you’re awake finally, I was getting worried.” The soft voice came from a… goat-like creature? (Goaty-the-goat, you tried not to laugh, now was not the time for jokes) She, at least you assumed they were a she, was dressed in a long ornate dress. Her white fur looked so soft, and her small horns reminded you of a faun or satyr. You had always loved mythical creatures, who would have guessed that you’d actually meet a few? As far as your grandmother’s tales had gone… monsters were extinct. At least, that was what everyone thought. There were theories about how it happened, but no one knew. It’d been so long ago that some people, you included, believed the stories of great monsters and creatures to be mere fairytales.

The creature gave a hesitant smile, “I’m Toriel, dear, you seem to have fallen into our Ruins. I found you injured and unconscious, so I brought you to my home. Are you alright, little one?”

You nodded carefully, Toriel shifted slightly and you noticed a plate with a large slice of some sort of pie atop it. It looked delicious, and it smelled even better. Toriel, noticing your glance, supplied an answer, “I made you pie, er, well, I did not know whether or not you preferred cinnamon or butterscotch, so I used both. Do not worry, if you do not like it you do not need to eat it all.” You signed a quick thank you.

Somehow, she seemed to understand and nodded, “I will be in the living room if you need me, my child.”

You gradually took self-inventory. Your backpack, even more worn now, was lying in the furthest corner of the room. It seemed she had left it untouched. You looked down at yourself. You were more or less okay, your eye was still semi-swollen, although it was duller now, it felt like it had happened worlds ago. A few other scrapes and scratches marred your arms and clothes, however, you seemed to be fairly alright… aside from the now-healing cut across your forehead and the throbbing pain in your leg. So you were as "alright" as someone who'd fallen down a mountain could be.

Gingerly, you reached up to touch your cut, it seemed that Toriel had taken the time to patch you up. Hopefully the bandage could get removed soon, it was awfully itchy. Cautiously, you tried to move your leg. It hurt and you couldn’t stop the small whimper that escaped your lips, but you did manage to move it. It was definitely possible for you to get up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, Frisk(12) goes on an adventure and meets a pesky flower and a kindly goat-mom.


	3. Life Goes On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry how slow the pace is currently, once the actual plot starts to come into play, I hope that the actual story's pace will become better, too. I'm sorry if these first three chapters are a bit dull, they're mostly for exposition.

It’d been a month. You were on the mend, your minor injuries had disappeared, the only thing that still gave you any trouble was your leg. On the other hand, though, you were having bad night terrors. Back home you’d had them, too, they were always so upsetting and you’d wake up unable to move, filled with fear. No one had known how bad it had gotten back home—no one had known how bad your mother had gotten. (Or, maybe they just didn't care)

At least you were away. You’re were okay, now. You were safe. Once, Toriel, had briefly asked about your life before your fall, but after looking at the expression on your face she never again pushed for an answer. She never brought it up after that first week with her.

Life was beginning to feel okay, finally. Well, no it wasn’t okay, and you knew it wasn’t, but you didn’t want to think about it any more, didn't want to think about any of them or her or anything, and the longer you stayed, the easier it was, the more you began to realize you could just forget it all. Forget about the torment. Forget about how unwanted you were.

You limped through the house. Toriel had changed some of her decorations during your stay. She’d also removed the small empty picture frame from your room. The box of toys and the box of children shoe’s you noticed were also gone. They were replaced with a small shelf of books, Toriel said she’d gotten them from town. You didn’t know what that meant, but, well, you appreciated the gift. You enjoyed the little silly joke books she always got you.

The hallway you were limping down had a large picture frame hung on the yellow wall, Toriel never explained to you who the people were in it, and every time she caught you studying it, she’d frown and suggest a task for you to do. There was also a small end table that held a vase of golden flowers. You always passed by the flowers with a shiver. Understandably, you were wary of them despite the fact that they had such beauty; you half expected one to turn an evil grin toward you and whisper a snide, “howdy, pal!” Toriel never explained about the flower that you’d met, and whenever you had asked she always evaded the question, you figured she would never end up giving you any sort of clue. She wasn't much for the personal "back-story" sort of conversations, though, neither were you.

She did, however, love to teach. Every morning, at least, assumed it was morning, she would wake you gently and ask if you were ready for a lesson today. She’d then help you up—it was hard, sometimes, for you to get up with your injured leg.

You loved the lessons. They were far more interesting than any of your classes in school, and Toriel was always so gentle with you. Her patience seemed endless, and her kindness made you happy. You still found yourself waiting for her to snap and yell, after all, she would tire of you, would she not? It seemed everyone tired of you eventually.

Your grandmother had left you… although you knew now that she had passed, it wasn’t exactly her choice, but then even so, your father… and your mother… They didn’t want you, either. Your mother had hated you the moment you came into the world. It was apparent.

It was okay though, you’d be alright. Once Toriel began to hate you, too, you could move on. She’d taught you so many things in the short timespan you were with her, you were sure you’d be able to live life in Snowdin, or Waterfall, or any of the cities within the Underground.

“My child, what worries you?” You shook your head emphatically as her voice stirred you out of your thoughts. “Dear, please, do not fear, you can always come to me should you need anything.” Toriel raised a paw to pat your head but you flinched away out of habit. She frowned and let her hand drop.

You signed a quick apology and she nodded, understanding. You had been teaching her a few signs the past month and you found that she had an incredible memory. You also discovered that there were other monsters who were deaf or unable to speak who also used a sort of sign-language semi-similar to ASL. It was nice. Your own mother had never bothered to try and accommodate you by learning sign language.

“Well, I have another little lesson for you, young one, if you would like to join me in the garden.” She smiled lightly and you grabbed her hand. The brightness in her eyes seemed just a tad bit brighter as she grasped your small hand. “Come, my child.” Together, the two of you walked through the house and out into the garden. The flowers whispered their usual musings. It was strange to listen to them, you swear you could almost make out certain words, but every time you focused hard enough on them something interrupted you and you lost whatever words they murmured.

You wiggled slightly in the grass. What would she teach you today?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3, Frisk is healing, but night-terrors still affect her. She teaches Toriel some sign-language, Toriel, in turn, teaches Frisk about the Underground.


	4. Moving On and Moving Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting somewhere now, but it's still mostly just exposition. Sorry!

Time flew in the Underground. Although, you had no real concept of the passage of time down here, (you had asked Toriel for a notebook and you liked to mark down each day as it happened so you could attempt to keep track) but who knew what day it truly was. As long as you were at least somewhat accurate, you realized it was probably nearing May.

It’d been almost 6 months from when you’d first fallen. The nightmares hadn’t stopped, but they weren’t always the same. Sometimes it was about your mother. She’d hit you, she’d scream, she’d threaten, and she’d hate. You usually woke up in a cold sweat, tears threatening to spill over. Yet, you never cried. You couldn’t. It was left over from your years with that woman. You never cried. Other nightmares, though, were about the Underground. A certain flower within the Underground to be exact, he’d taunt you mercilessly and throw bullets at you until you could not dodge any longer. Until you made a dangerous mistake.

Somehow, haunting your dreams was not enough, even in the waking world, Flowey hadn’t stopped bothering you. When your leg had mended and after Toriel had taught you the basics of being able to dodge and defend yourself, you were allowed to go out on your own. She still required you take your cell phone, but you didn’t mind her protectiveness, it was something foreign and new... and being cared for like that was nice.

On your first day out, the pesky flower had shown up with a sneer on his face. You'd nearly screamed, his sudden presence being so unexpected. He gave you the creeps, and you couldn’t stop the tremble in your body as you quickly turned tail and ran home. After that, you tried never to be alone for too long, always going where you knew the monsters would gather.

He never showed up if you were in company. You thought that maybe he was intimidated by them. (You sort of hoped he was) However, you liked them—the monsters, you meant. They were odd, but they were true and kind. Besides, they weren't any odder than you were. They were pleasant to be around, and they’d taken a liking to you as well, even the spiders liked you, probably because you tended to stop by quite often and buy a treat or two.

The Ruins were small, for sure, but they were safe. You wouldn’t mind staying longer. Toriel reminded you of your grandmother, so much so that you’d taken to calling her mamma in your head. You’d been too nervous to actually call her by the name, though. Maybe soon you could ask if it was alright. You felt deep affection for Toriel resonate in your soul, you really did love jer, but the longer you stayed with her the more something seemed off.

Yet again, the feeling of needing to move on took over. Just like when you had reached your twelfth birthday and something (fate, maybe?) pulled you into leaving your home, you had this gut feeling that your destiny was not within these small Ruins. Toriel had discussed the other cities with you many times, and explained how the monsters had been trapped down here in the first place. She never went into detail on how to escape the Underground, and considering you had nowhere to return home to, you never bothered to ask her. Maybe it was time.

 _‘Toriel,’_ you signed quietly one evening, after waving your hand to grab her attention, _‘will you take me to Snowdin? I want to see the snow.’_

Even outside of your mother’s sphere influence you still never felt confident enough to use your words. Even those few times you had wanted to try to say something… to use your words out loud... you felt choked and unable to make any noise. Your hands would shake. Your heart would flutter. Your mouth would become so dry, your tongue like leather, you couldn’t even form a proper syllable. You did not want to talk, even if you wanted to. It was confusing.

“Ah. You want to see Snowdin? But, my dear child, the Ruins are your home… are you not happy here?” You waved your hand in dismissal, _‘No, I am happy, but, I want to see more…’_

“I do not think you would like it, how about you take a walk outside in the garden?” She suggested in an attempt to distract you.

But you were determined and shook your head. “Have you had lunch yet, then? Perhaps we could eat lunch before any quick decisions are made…” she trailed off upon seeing your furrowed brow.

You signed slowly, _‘My birthday is tomorrow. I was born with the snow. I want to see the snow. Please?’_

Her shoulders slumped and she smiled sadly, “Dear one, shall I tell you a story?” With a questioning look from you, Toriel took a deep breath and began to relate to you the truth behind the Underground. Toriel, who you discovered was the former queen, had sad and sorrowful watery eyes as she explained her sad tale about the other children, the ones, like you who had fallen and insisted upon going home.

They never _ever_  made it home.

They were needed to free the monsters, and so, the king, Asgore Dreemurr had begun the slow process of collecting the souls of those who fell. She explained that she wanted you to stay safe. She wanted you to stay in the Ruins. She wanted you to stay with her. It was dangerous out there. Far more dangerous than it was here where she was able to protect you. She couldn't keep you safe if you were out there on your own.

You suggested she that she might come with you, but she shook her head with a bitter smile. “This is my home, child, I must stay.”

 _‘I need to go,’_ you stretched across the table, arms nearly too short to grab her paw, she leaned into your reach. You were not an overly affectionate child—that had been beaten out of you, but Toriel helped you feel safe, and had been the closest thing to love you’d ever experienced. _‘I will miss you.’_ Toriel nodded softly, her voice quieter than normal as she whispered, “Remember to call…” and with that, she stood and left the table. Carefully you slid back in your chair and stood.

A whole year in a place of safety and comfort. It had been a new experience, but it was over now. It was time to go, and you were filled with… determination. Of all of your thirteen years, this was probably the best year of your life. You smiled as you hefted your backpack onto your thin shoulders and headed into the basement. This was the beginning of a new chapter, was it not? Time to move. Time to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4, Frisk(13) decides to leave the safety of the Ruins for Snowdin.


	5. Sansational

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, something occurs! A new character is met!

The door was huge… and deep purple color. It had the same etchings on it that decorated Toriel’s dress. You wondered what the symbol meant, stupidly you'd never asked. Maybe you could call her and ask? You'd have to wait though, it didn't seem like you had service down here in this cave-like tunnel.

Cautiously, stoically, with trembling hands, you pushed the large door. The sound of stone on stone was grating and loud, it reverberated around the room. As you stepped through, the door closed softly behind you. Out of curiosity you turned on your heel and attempted to push it open again. No such luck, it would not budge. There was no handle to grasp and pull on.

You gave yourself five seconds to stand, to let yourself worry before you took a deep breath and began your long walk down the eerily silent hallway. It seemed endless, at least until you reached an absurdly large amount of stairs. Nothing about climbing a thousand-some stairs seemed inviting, but, you figured you were just getting your cardio for the day in, right?

You instantly regretted dressing so warmly with a large striped sweater and jeans with snow boots; they were a bit too hot for all the stair climbing you were doing. You were only halfway there and sweating profusely, with your thighs burning from exertion. You wiped the sweat from your brow before you continued your climb with determination in each step.

At the top of the steps a smaller door stands in front of you, quietly you opened and slipped through it quickly. This new room was dark. You could faintly hear the wind whistling outside. You were then grateful for your overly warm sweater at that moment. You could see the outline of a large gray archway, but before you could move any further you heard a familiar and sinister voice.

“Howdy, friend! It sure has been a while, now hasn’t it? Gee golly, I sure missed you…”

You shook your head and tried to move out of his way, surprisingly he did not stop you; he only gave you a parting remark, “You think the world is always going to be so kind? You’ll see. It’s kill or be killed, kid. Kill or _BE_ killed!” He laughed maniacally as you hurried into the next room. You just wanted to move on.

The first thing you noticed was the temperature drop, the second was the eerily tall and barren trees that surrounded you, third was just how alone you felt. It seemed there was a thin path through the towering trees, and even though the snow made the path difficult to traverse, you were determined to make it to Snowdin. The woods felt odd to you. You felt like they were watching you—watching and waiting. Perhaps there were spirits within the trees, judging you.

You could have sworn you just saw something move, but when you turned to make sure, there was nothing there. A large tree branch laid in your path and you carefully avoided it, you didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself. You continue to make your way down the path, but a loud snap behind you made you squeak in fear. Trembling, you turned around slowly… only to see nothing there.

You swallowed and turned back around, steeling yourself to continue on. It was probably nothing… probably nothing. But in the back of your mind you could only think about the fact that most monsters in the Underground would probably _kill_ for a way out. They’d kill you.

“H U M A N.” You turned around; goosebumps covering your skin. “is that anyway to greet your new pal?” The creature stuck its hand out. Hesitantly, you took it. The “pbfft” of a whoopee cushion sounded and you nervously chuckled, a small smile tugging on your lips.

The skeleton grinned back, “that one never gets old…” He paused for a moment, regarding you curiously, but whatever he wanted to say he seemingly decided against. Instead, when he spoke, it was a simple introduction, “i’m sans, and it just tickles my _funny bone_ to meet a friend… a new friend such as yourself, kid.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the silly skeleton. You waved and signed your own name to him, hoping that perhaps he already knew some form of sign language.

He only nodded once, “Frisk,” a pause, “I know.” You weren’t sure if that meant he understood you or something else… The way he’d said it, almost fondly, but almost angrily, coupled with that look in his eyes that you didn’t quite understand.

“there’s no need to look so worried. i’m not going to capture you… now, my brother on the other hand, well he’s a human-hunting fanatic. you best stay clear of him.” With a grin plastered to his face he led you onto a bridge and through a seemingly useless too-large gate.

“on second thought,” he continued after a few moments of silence, “you really shouldn’t worry about him… he doesn’t have a _mean bone_ in his body.” Sans just grinned at you expectantly and you could feel your worry begin to dissolve.

Despite his human-capturing brother, Sans seemed genuinely kind. Also, because of Toriel, you did have quite the appreciation for silly jokes and puns. This skeleton and Toriel would probably get along well.

Maybe that’s why you warmed up to him so quickly… Though, the thought of Toriel made you frown slightly, but another thought struck you, maybe you could make some jokes for this skeleton. If he was anything like Toriel, he'd like them.

You quickly signed, ‘ _you’re being rib-iculous…’_ the smile on your face grew wider as you watched Sans, this new friend of yours, light up. He patted your head and chuckled lightly, “c’mon, kid, let’s go.”

Something felt off about how comfortable you were with this stranger, but something was also so right about it. It was like meeting an old friend, yet, not at all. You’d never seen him before, as far as you could tell. You struggled to find the words to explain the feeling in your chest as you continued down the path alone.

Sans was nowhere to be seen, but that somehow seemed normal. Something about the familiar yet unknown scenery was nagging at you deep down. You looked around, there was an oddly shaped lamp, and a small station of some sort. A sentry-station perhaps? Maybe that’s where Sans’ ‘human-hunting-fanatic’ of a brother stayed at. In any case, he didn’t seem to be present at that moment. You sighed with relief.

The snow, the landscape, the people all felt so familiar yet there was no way they could have been. You'd never met them, right? Sometimes it felt mildly like you were dreaming, like there was something just out of reach but the fog made it too hard for you to grab the notion. Once Sans appeared again all concentration you had on attempting to solve the riddle faded, and so too did the feeling you were trying to understand.

“hey, you might want to hide behind that lamp. it’s pretty convenient, yeah? i think i see my brother, papyrus, on his way over.”

You nodded and moved to hide. What happened next had your stomach doing flips, that was, until Sans began to crack jokes, then it was all you could do not to burst into laughter and give yourself away. Thankfully, their conversation did not last long and the taller of the two exited, a trail of “nyeh-heh-heh’s” following him.

“the coast is clear, kiddo. you can come out now.” His grin had never left his face the whole time he and his brother talked, but it faltered as you silently plodded toward him. He feigned a moment of deep thought before asking, “actually, hey, hate to bother ya, but can you do me a favor?” You tilted your head to the side, a questioning look on your face.

“i was thinking… my brother’s been kind of down lately… he’s never seen a human before and i think it’d make his day… don’t worry, he’s not dangerous, even if he tries to be."

You gave a short nod.

"thanks a million, i’ll be up ahead.”

One long conversation with a rather tall and loud skeleton later you were suddenly roped into doing puzzles… although, you guess it wasn’t much of a conversation if you stayed silent the entire time.

“well, that went well. don’t sweat it, kid. i’ll keep an eyesocket out for ya.” With that, he was gone.

What on earth had you gotten yourself into? Maybe Toriel was right… but… they didn’t seem so bad.

They didn't seem bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5, Frisk(13) meets quite the humerus skeleton. Puzzles are completed, she arrives in Snowdin.


	6. Fighting Start!

Many puzzles later and you were in the cozy town of Snowdin. You’d gotten to pet so many dogs on your way there, you even met another jokester, this one was feathered, he called himself a Snowdrake. You also met a rather lonely looking snowman that only wanted to go on a big adventure. He asked you a favor and you nervously accepted the snow piece, surely you could follow such simple instructions.

It was all so much to take in, but it was also the most fun you’d had that you could remember.

Remember… the strange feeling was still there. It’s like you’d seen this before, but you hadn’t. It was all new, and there was no way you could have seen this before. This made no sense to you. None of it did. A sudden gust of wind knocked you down, breaking you from your thoughts. You took in your surroundings. It was apparent that some sort of creative talent had rampaged through this area. You found so many long necks stretching into the sky with a happy dog’s face sculpted on top. The snow sculptures only made you think of Lesser Dog, perhaps they had done this? You walked through the crumbling sculptures with a smile on your face.

“A dog just came through here. He was so excited, maybe a bit too excited, he kept trying to build the perfect snowdog, but his enthusiasm caused them to collapse. It was hard to watch, yet I couldn’t stop watching…”

You nodded solemnly, it was just as you guessed. You waved your farewell at the cow-like monster and continued on your path. For some reason, you truly loved the snow. It wasn’t because it was near your birthday, if anything, you should hate the snow for that reason (no part of you would ever be glad you'd been born)… but, truly, you couldn’t muster up enough spite to hate anything.

You just loved the cold that brushed against your face, the crunch of the snow beneath your boots, the pure, sparkling, white that covered the land. Each breathe in and out made your lungs burn and let your body feel truly grounded. It was so beautiful, both the feelings the cold weather gave you, and the landscape itself. The snowy climate set you at peace. Soon enough you reached the busier part of the small cosy town. There were so many people to meet, but, you were wary of them.

Meeting people was a stressful thing in general. You’d always had trouble at school because of it. Never been able to make friends. The crowds and all of the people had always been so overwhelming to you, it was impossible for you to stay calm and many times you’d make an excuse to leave the class just to cry in a bathroom.

As you got older though, you stopped crying. Instead you just became catatonic. It was hard to do anything when you felt so overwhelmed by life. It wasn’t so bad when you only had to nod or wave, though, and the townsfolk were friendly enough. By the time you walked to the other side of the place you’d heard some nice comment from nearly every resident.

It was exhausting though. All of it. All of the energy you’d had was waning, both emotionally and physically. Your tiredness crashed in on you all at once.

The largeness of the world began to close in on you and your breathing began to speed up. A feeling of dread set into your stomach, and you glared holes into your feet. You didn’t have the energy to move forward or move backward… or do… anything. It was too much all at once.

You'd thought you could do it. You'd thought a couple good days would mean you’d never have bad days again, but that’s not how it worked, was it? And now you were alone. In a town of people who probably wanted you dead… or if they didn’t yet, they soon would. You were the only thing keeping them from salvation.

You were unwanted, weren’t you? Why did you ever think you belonged? Even with Toriel, she was glad as you left. One less thing to deal with, and the skeletons? They were just bored, they thought you were annoying. The people you’d met today? Maybe they hated your sweater. It was too big, you felt frumpy. Your hair was probably a mess from the wind, too. Slowly, then quickly, the self-deprecating comments came. You couldn’t stop yourself. It just went downhill. You were just so… broken.

You weren’t sure how long you had stood there, but you knew you couldn’t just stay still, unmoving, and in the cold no less, for the rest of your life. It was better to just move on. And so you did. Little did you know, you would run directly into Papyrus. His monologue was something that felt familiar and foreign at the same time. Friend? You could be his friend. When you said as much, you saw him hesitate, but it wasn’t enough, and soon you felt your soul being bared and put on display.

A red glow came from your chest in the shape of a heart. It would be beautiful and strange if not for the very real possibility of you getting hurt. Papyrus wasted no time in putting you through your paces. Your small body was put to your limits as you jumped, ducked, dodged, and rolled out of the way of each attack. Sweat dripped down your face, your muscles burned from over-use, and your breathing was heavy. Papyrus looked no worse for wear, but if you looked closer you could see he was breathing just a little bit heavier than normal.

Your legs felt so weak, you would not be standing for much longer.

“I, THE GREAT… PAPYRUS…” he paused to swallow, “I can fight you no longer.” You collapsed in relief, your vision was fading to black, all you remembered was the lanky skeleton lunging toward you, concern in his voice.

_“Worthless.” She spat at you. “You’ve ruined it again. Can’t you do anything right?” The woman stumbled toward you. You held your ground, despite the fear in your eyes. She laughed, “Well? Don’t you ever have anything to say for yourself?”_

_She sighed, “You’re so selfish. So god damn selfish, Frisk. You are so inconsiderate and self-centered. Did you ever stop to think that maybe your ‘daddy’ and I fought because of you?” The venom in her words stung your heart, but all you could muster was a small shake of your head._

_“_ _No? Of course not. You never think it’s your fault.” She pushed you then, her hands shaking as they hit against your collarbone. You fell back, wordless, breathless, before you hit the corner of the table. A small whimper escaped your lips but you quickly muffled the sound. You couldn’t be weak, she’d only be angrier…_

“hey, kid, ya alright? how about you come inside for a moment?”

The words broke through the swirling emotions you were feeling. You looked at him with such sadness in your eyes and nodded, hair bobbing in rhythm. You didn’t exactly know how you got to the front door of this house, and the confusion must have shown in your eyes because the skeleton smiled softly, offering a brief explanation, “papyrus said you collapsed, when you woke up though, your eyes had been glazed over and you screamed and kicked until he set you down. he got me, then.”

Your jeans felt cold, it took you a moment to realize you were just sitting in the snow, your hands were nearly blue and it hurt to move. The wind was still kicking, a low howling moan that gave you goosebumps. Snow was tangled in your hair, small flakes were settled on your eyelashes and stuck to your sweater. The skeleton reached a hand down to you, his eyes were unreadable, and the small pinpricks of white light that you assumed were his pupils were dimmer than before. You slowly moved to stand, his hand felt so smooth and wasn’t as cold as you expected. You own small hand was seemingly swallowed by his large skeletal hand. He wasn’t the tallest monster you’d met, but you were still a good head or so shorter than him.

“ya cold, kid? you look chilled to the _bone.”_ Sans cracked a smile before unzipping his jacket and setting it gently around your slender frame. You hiccoughed, but smiled. There were tears in your eyes, whether from the cold, or from the memories, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you were ok now. You hoped, at least.

“c’mon, let’s go.”

Shakily, you walked into the inviting house, leaning heavily onto the skeleton. The dream, the fight, your exhaustion led you to barely have the ability to walk. You signed with your free hand a quick sorry, out of the corner of his eye he watched you, the only acknowledgement of your apology being a quick shrug of his skeletal shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6, in which Frisk worries, is a bit anxious, but generally meets a lot of people and has a bit of fun, that is, until she fights a certain skeleton and ends up staying at their house.


	7. Seems Fishy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently sitting in an airport waiting to go home, so I'll get a lot of writing done, at least. I don't have a lot of time so I'll upload now, just be aware I haven't gone back and edited through it yet, there might be quite a few mistakes. When I get home, in about 10 hours, I'll go back through and edit.

The house was surprisingly clean considering two lone males occupied it. There was a sock with a string of sticky notes attached, but other than that there was no real amount of clutter anywhere. The couch, which you were currently resting on, was a little lumpy but overall fairly comfortable. The house was pleasant. You could faintly hear the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and a low murmur from the two brothers. Vaguely you wondered what they were saying, but then again, it’d be rude to eavesdrop.

It was warm, the heat of the house combined with the soft blanket covering you. That was nice, your fingers were slowly regaining some semblance of color and though the pinpricks and needles you felt, as the blood returned to your hands, hurt, at least you could move them again.

How long would you be allowed to stay here? You didn’t want to intrude on their lives, so perhaps it’d be best if you got going once you warmed up enough to move… Although, maybe a nice nap wouldn’t hurt either.

It didn’t take long for your eyes to shut and your consciousness to fade.

Papyrus and Sans walked out from the kitchen and they watched you silently. Sans wasn’t sure what to do with you, but Papyrus took it in stride. He grabbed you another blanket and gently wrapped you in it.

“sans, I am not sure I want the human to meet Undyne.” He sniffled quietly, “I like this human, I think Undyne was wrong about humans. This one is far squishier and much nicer than how she described them. Plus, the human is so small. It can’t possibly be dangerous.”

Sans only nodded, sparing a glance in your direction once again. He couldn’t get over the feeling that he knew you once. You were not passing acquaintances, but rather, he felt that you had been friends before. Good friends, maybe at one point as close as he and Papyrus were. He couldn’t explain the feeling though. He did feel that it’d be a good idea to, if possible, keep an eye on your for a while. You seemed so fragile, so broken, so young yet so old at the same time. Your soul was too old for you.

He felt the intense need to protect you.

“paps, i don’t know what to tell ya, i think it’d be best if you didn’t tell undyne about this.”

“It may or may not be too late for that, I, the GREAT PAPYRUS, was too excited about the human that I told Undyne right after we first found the human.”

“ah, well, that does complicate things. how about we have undyne over for a visit, then?”

Papyrus could not understand how having the captain of the royal guard over for a visit would solve their problems, but he also didn’t understand quantum mechanics and Sans did, so maybe Sans had some sort of convoluted plan.

“Okay!!! That sounds great, I think!!!” Papyrus quickly dialed her number, a few exchanges in texts back and forth and the skeleton brothers now had a dinner date with the murderous Undyne for next week.

When you woke up it was nearly morning, a quick glance at the phone Toriel had given showed that it was nearly 7 am. At least, that’s what you thought the symbols said. As you sat up you realized just how sore your muscles were. In fact, your entire body ached. You were sufficiently warmed up, though, which was nice. The window by the couch showed you that outside there was a blizzard tearing through. It was white outside, occasionally you could see a glimpse of the high cavernous ceiling between the flurries that rained down. The dramatic weather confused you, but considering magic and monsters were real, perhaps questioning the Underground’s weather was the least of your worries.

It wasn’t until 8 that Sans walked down stairs. He waved a groggy good morning to you and busied himself in the kitchen for a moment before joining you on the couch. You moved your feet to give him room.

_‘Thank you for letting me stay. I don’t wish to be a bother though, when would you like me out by?’_

Sans only smiled and shrugged, “doesn’t matter to me.” He smirked at the incredulity on your face, “i’m serious, kiddo, it gets _bonely_ here. pap and i wouldn’t mind the company.” When he saw you were still unconvinced he added, “how about we wait a week to give you time to heal up from your pap-fight, then we’ll talk about plans?”

_‘Ok, but only if you’re sure…’_

“now, that is settled, do you want to help your old pal with making breakfast?”

You nodded happily and the two of you walked into the kitchen.

A very eventful hour later you could hear Papyrus slamming around upstairs. He couldn’t be quiet if he tried, you guessed. Ah well, at least the skeleton had good timing since you and Sans were nearly finished. Breakfast would be served, and it was good considering how starving you felt. Sitting at the table and laughing with the two brothers put you at ease. The week flew by in a similar manner and soon you found yourself wishing more and more that you could just stay there forever.

The day of Undyne’s visit was fairly calm, at least for Sans and yourself.

Papyrus, on the other hand, was frantically flying through the house attempting to clean up. You had offered to help clean every time the tall skeleton passed you, but he strictly refused.

Eventually you just gave up and sat on the couch with Sans, attempting to stay out of the way. Sans had warned you that Undyne was not the nicest of fish, and perhaps it’d be better if you cleared the house before she showed up, which you would have gladly done except for Papyrus demanding that you stay.

Conflicted, you looked to Sans for help and he’d only shrugged. So, you ended up staying, nervously twisting your hair around your fingers while you waited.

“don’t worry, kid, i’ll keep you safe.” He seemed to have a knack for knowing exactly what worried you or what you were thinking, which you appreciated immensely. Talking about your feelings wasn’t easy. In fact, it was pretty much impossible. You hated to burden others with your thoughts.

You carefully adjusted your sweater and smoother your skirt and you began to consider if you should try to brush down your hair when suddenly a loud knock sounded on the door. Or, rather, it seemed more like someone was trying to bang the door down with how hard they hit it.

While Papyrus ran toward the door, gleefully yelling, Sans snatched your hand and pulled you off the couch to stand directly behind him. It was just in time too, because with a loud slam the door burst open as a rather tall and scary looking mer-lady walked in. She was so terrifying that she looked a fierce sort of beautiful. You could only look at your too-short legs in disappointment.

“PAPYRUS! WHERE’S THAT HUMAN YOU FOUND?” She grinned wickedly, eyes flicking around readily, as she gripped the blue outline of what looked to be a spear. Sans shuffled to block your view yet again.

“Well, that’s uh, the thing, the human, well, she’s gone.” Papyrus swallowed nervously.

“W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN GONE?” She yelled, frustration becoming evident. Although, when she looked at Papyrus’ gloomy face, she seemed to calm fairly quickly, amending her anger with a simple, “Ah, well, it happens! Humans are tricky creatures. I’ll just have to be on the lookout for it!” She sneered. “Then we’ll get out of here.”

“why don’t we just stay here until something else comes along,” Sans pipped up, drawing Undyne’s attention. Before she could notice you, though, you felt a tug on your soul and when you blinked you were in a different room.

There was a messily “made” bed, if you could consider the sheets being pulled into a ball meaning that the bed was made. In the corner of the room there was a swirling tornado of trash and other miscellaneous items. It looked like there was one of your socks that you’d lost the other day spinning in the midst of other things. You glanced around the rest of the room, one shelf on the wall had many, many, many books, all looking to be something about time travel and alternate dimensions. Those topics made your head spin, you couldn’t imagine trying to read and understand them.

Lastly you noted the pile of socks in the other corner. Ah, you sighed, this must be Sans’ room. It was kind of cozy despite the mess. Casually, you settled yourself onto the bed and sat to wait. He’d probably be up to get you when you could come down safely. For now you’d just have to accept being alone.

You weren’t particularly fond of being left to your own thoughts. Usually if you weren’t kept busy you’d begin to worry and over think.

These dark thoughts, sad thoughts, lonely remembrances, they all came sputtering forth like the sprinklers that would attempt to water the dying grass that bordered the side walks on your way to school. You began to think about school and about when talking became too hard for you to do. It was after a particularly snide bully made several comments about how squeaky and annoying you sounded.

If that wasn’t hurtful enough, it was only worse after your teacher called you out for having a “too-high-pitched” voice. She’d said for you to use your “real voice” of no one would take you seriously. You’d already found it hard to talk before then, but it had just gotten worse after that.

Your teachers were impatient with your whispered responses, and often they’d demand, voices filled with exasperation, “Frisk. Speak up. We can’t hear you.” It put too much pressure on you, especially when the students would giggle, it always made you feel like a large and rather unfriendly spotlight was strained on your too-nervous face.

You’d gone home after a particularly rough day with an idea sparking in your mind. Softly, you’d asked your grandmother, “Will you teach me sign language?” She cocked her head to the side, but her eyes softened, without asking why the sudden curiosity she happily obliged. Your mother had been less than pleased when you were smiling and spelling things out through sign language. She thought it unnecessary and only a waste of time for you to learn.

Your grandmamma started by only teaching you the alphabet, but promised you more and more, giving you lessons every time you visited. Your mother, on the other hand, only shook her head, “Is there a reason why you feel the need to sign everything?” You nodded, and that was the end of it. She didn’t understand, and she wouldn’t even if she’d cared enough to ask.

“kiddo, what’s on ya mind?”

You practically jumped a mile, how did he always manage to sneak up on you?

 _‘How do you know sign language?’_ You asked, trying to shake the dredges of those memories away.

“ah, well, an _old friend_ , taught me.” He winked and you weren’t sure how to respond, something about his emphasis on old friend and the look he had given you made you curious. Who was this person? Could you meet them, too?

 _‘I was thinking about home.’_ You signed rapidly. For a fraction of a second you swore you could see him stiffen, but he brushed over the moment by coming closer and relaxing on the bed beside you. There were another few seconds of silence before he asked, seeming to choose his words very carefully, “home? do… do you happen to miss… do you miss home?”

You didn’t want to answer. You felt terrible for not wanting to return home. Shouldn’t you want to go home? But why would you? It only brought suffering to all parties involved. Plus, you weren’t even wanted at home. You didn’t want to think about home any more.

 _‘no,’_ you answered firmly.

If he was surprised, he hid it, but only asked, “ah? then why are ya so caught up on it this time around?” This time? You weren’t sure what he meant.

 _‘I can’t go home. There’s nothing left for me there. I’d only be in the way.’_ You responded, a frown marking your face. Yeah, you thought bitterly, only in the way of your mother’s abusive words and attacks.

Sans muttered something, you could have sworn he’d said “that’s new,” but, you didn’t understand.

What was new? Did he know something you didn’t? Better not to ask than to have him annoyed at you for prying.

He seemed deep in thought, his brow furrowed, or at least, you thought it was. It was difficult to tell considering he was a skeletal figure. He didn’t exactly have eyebrows to show you his expressions. You couldn’t quite say why but suddenly you felt the urge to grab his hand once more. You felt the urge to tuck your head under his shoulder and fall asleep.

He made you feel safe. It was a similar feeling to how Toriel had made you feel. How your grandmamma had made you feel. Yet, it was entirely different. These feelings that seemed to spring from nowhere only gave you a headache. It was like your heart was trying to tell you something that you brain refused to understand. Your soul was screaming something at you but you could not understand it despite how hard you tried to.

“do ya ever feel such a strange sense of deja-vu, kid? ‘cause i do. i feel it a lot, actually.” Deja-vu? Huh, you felt your curiosity pique. He felt it too, then, right? He had to.

You nodded.

“ah, i see, well, then, the thing is. i felt it for the longest time, but then about two years ago the feeling disappeared. i was out by the entrance to the ruins as always, pap had been determined to recalibrate the puzzles and i was determined to do nothing. it felt like a dream, like i’d done this a million times before. my whole life up until that point had felt like that. and then suddenly, it didn’t.”

“ya, see? something changed that day. i knew something had gone wrong, but i wasn’t sure what. then two years later, now you’re here and i feel flashes of that deja-vu feeling, yet it also felt off. it wasn’t quite right.” He paused for breath then casually flicked his eyes over to you, watching you from the side while he stayed facing forward. He could probably tell by the shock on your face that you knew exactly what he was talking about. You knew exactly what he meant, yet, you couldn’t believe that someone else also felt that way.

“frisk, i think you know right what i mean. i don’t want to scare ya, kid, but i think this is ‘cause of you, i can feel it in my _bones_.” You chuckled, he just couldn’t help himself with the jokes.

_‘I feel like I know you. Like I’ve known you. Like I’ve known you for years and years and years.’_

His grin only got wider as he nodded in agreement.

“i think… i think we needa talk a bit more about this.”

“SANS!” A boisterous voice interrupted your conversation as the taller of the two brothers burst into the room. “Does... do  _they_  want to eat dinner with us?” Sans shrugged and looked at you questioningly. You looked at him carefully before asking, _‘am I allowed to? Won’t Undyne be upset?’_

Papyrus, ever the blunt personality, just smiled, “Yeah! Probably!!! But once she meets you, a puzzle lover with great taste in friends, she’ll have to forgive you for being human!! Then we can all be friends!” He clapped his hands together, proud of his idea. It seemed dangerous, but, you remembered that Sans said he’d look out for you.

With that final thought to comfort you, you agreed to join them for dinner.

 _‘Thank you, thank you for letting me stay, too…’_ with that you hopped up from the bed to follow Papyrus out of the room. Quickly, Sans snatched at your hand and turned you around.

 “hope you like spaghetti. it’s all he makes.”

You blinked and Sans was gone, your hand grasping empty air. How on earth?

Dinner was tense. You’d entered the room, Sans was already sitting, talking casually to Undyne, Papyrus was standing and carefully serving everyone. The moment you hit the bottom step all eyes turned on you, Sans smirked at you, but Undyne only regarded you curiously.

“What… what is _that_?” She asked, her eyes narrowing. She could make a pretty guess as to what you were.

“Hey. Papyrus. I found your missing human.” You could practically see the blood vessels popping out on her forehead as she glared at you. Her hands gripped the table so tightly that it dented, you could only wave meekly in response.

Sans, his eyes glinting dangerously, spoke up, “she is our guest. i’d prefer to avoid causing bodily harm to our guest while she remains in this household.”

The air was thick with tension, you found it hard to breathe. You awaited her response, hoping it wouldn’t be hateful.

“Fine.” She grunted finally, taking a deep breath to sooth her building rage. “Though, I’d watch your back, if I were you, human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7, Frisk(still 13) is chilling with the (2nd) coolest of skeletons, sans. They make a lovely breakfast. The whole week goes by pretty fast. That is until a very awkward dinner with a very angry guest!


	8. Shot Through the Heart (and You're to Blame)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok well now we're going to be getting somewhere finally. Although, I have to ask, is this all sounding okay to you guys? Does it make sense, do you enjoy it? I hope so, I'd really like to hear some feedback.

One awkward and tense dinner later and things gradually returned to normal. Papyrus still spoke fondly of Undyne, however you weren’t so sure that he could be trusted as the best judge of character. Sans didn’t seem to think anything of anyone, so he wasn’t a good person to ask either. He had warned you, though, to steer clear of Waterfall since that was where Undyne tended to patrol most often. You weren't about to disobey him.

At least, it seemed like most things had been settled rather peacefully. It was a blessing to your weary self that you could rest easy knowing that at least you were safe In Snowdin. The only real problem you had now was the fact that you felt quite guilty freeloading off of Sans’ and Papyrus’ hospitality. However, when you said as much, they’d waved you off completely.

It was only when you insisted that Sans took a moment to consider you fully. Maybe he could put you to work, you suggested. You weren’t so young that it’d be impossible for you, plus, based on the determination in your voice, he got the feeling that you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You could sense him wavering which only made you more convinced that you had to work for your place in the home.

 _‘Please?’_ Your eyes were glistening with hope, and it was just too much for him, _‘I could work with you! Papyrus probably would agree that I’d help you and… and… actually make sure you do your work!’_ You smiled satisfaction with your infallible reasoning. There was no way Sans could deny that Papyrus would like them to work together!

He mocked at being offended, but seemed to take your offer seriously.

Finally, after another moment of consideration, he nodded stiffly. “well, i suppose that’s settled. i’m just gonna _patell-ya_ , and remember, this ain’t no _fib_ ia, we’re gonna be working down to the _bone_.”

Your small smile turned quickly into a large grin, you could barely contain your glee! You’d finally feel like you were being of some use to Sans.

“ah, well, i betta show you around the workplace, then.”

He extended his hand toward you, his characteristic smirk present. You raised an eyebrow but took his hand despite your misgivings. Holding his hand reminded you of a distant memory, but it faded before you could give it further thought.

You felt a strong pull on your soul, like someone was yanking it out of your body, it was different than the feeling of when you were pulled into battle. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, just interesting and new. Suddenly, though, it was hot. Unbearably so. Looking around, you could only see red. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the sudden light, but once it did you saw lava and rock. No wonder it was sweltering down here.

_‘Where are we?’_

“hotland. it’s pretty self-explanatory.” You nodded. It figured that the same king who named this under the ground cavern the Underground would name a place that is very hot, Hotland. You could only guess that Waterfall was filled with many waterfalls.

“well, frisk, ya won't here me say this often, but, let’s get to work.” Something about that phrase nagged at the back of your mind. The more time you spent with this silly skeleton the more you felt like you’d done all of this before. It was so hard to understand. You could figure that out later though, you hoped, for now it was time to work.

Time flew by that day, and every day after. You soon found yourself falling into place amongst these boney friends. Even some of the occupants that stirred around Snowdin you’d befriended, like Monsterkid. He was pretty kind, and he always had a compliment or two for you. He was a bit clumsy though, so you made sure to always have a Band-Aid or two on your person.

It felt so nice to have a place to belong, and unlike the Ruins, Snowdin was much larger. There was always something new to do. One day you’d spent your time by finding various Gyftrots and helping them to remove what some pesky teens had vandalized their visage with. Another day, you spent helping out the family of rabbit-like creatures at their inn.

The youngest child and you got along fairly well, that was to say, they were so small and energetic and you were ever so patient. Some days you’d find an excuse to stay at the 'librarby' all day and read, or you’d chat up the ice-tossing wolf and perhaps do a little bit of the work yourself. People began to know your name as you passed and they’d call out to you just as they would to any other of the residents in the friendly town.

It was so nice to belong.

You soon found yourself alternating between different jobs and tasks, you lent out your time to nearly everyone, and you enjoyed yourself immensely. There were days, though, that your anxiety was worse than others, and those days it was hard for you to move from the couch that you’d claimed as your bed. Sans would only glance at your bundled up frame before leaving you to recharge.

He seemed to understand. He always seemed to understand.

Snowdin, although always covered in snow, had a nice spring and summer season where a pseudo-sun would shine down on the ground and provide a sense of warmth even though it didn’t actually provide any such thing. The fall season was lovely in that occasionally there would be small flurries of snow, but nothing too huge. It was always beautiful too, to see the flakes of snow drift lazily to the ground. But, that too had passed fairly quickly, or it at least felt like it was all passing by very quickly. Before you knew it your 14th birthday was soon approaching.

You hadn’t mentioned this to either of the skeletons, not wanting them to fuss over you, but you had kept track of the days with the notebook Toriel had originally given you, it was almost bitter sweet that it nearly the anniversary of when you'd left Toriel's safety and comfort.

It shocked you that you could spend two years underground and be perfectly content with it. The memories of your mother had faded, thought their effect was still prominent, and your night-terrors had mostly subsided. It was going to be alright, you thought.

Apparently everything was all going too well, though, or at least the universe had different plans for you other than you being alright and happy. Was a shame, really.

The day before your birthday just like when you’d left Toriel’s home of safety and comfort, you had this feeling in your gut that it was time to move on. You were standing in Sans’ place, watching over the hotdog stand in Hotland. He had decided a few months back that he could safely leave you there to work, and so far it was going great. At least, until you’d begun to feel that pull drawing you toward Waterfall. You tried to ignore the feeling and continued your work, but as time went on and the flood of customers waned, you found yourself looking more and more at the exit to Hotland.

Your shift was nearly over, Sans would be by soon to pick you up… It couldn’t hurt to just peak in Waterfall. You’d be careful, right? Besides, what were the chances Undyne would be right at the entrance to Hotland right at that very second?

Very slim, you discovered, your impulsiveness getting the better of you while you took in the new scenery.

There were glowing blue flowers whispering amongst each other, there were white and blue shards of crystal and other gems stuck to the walls and a ceiling that reminded you of the stars you used to watch when you were above ground. There was the sound of a river flowing. It was enticing and you soon found yourself trekking further into the new territory.

“I wouldn’t go further that way, if I were.” You sprung forward, goosebumps all over your arms. It had been so long since you’d heard that voice. Flowey? Why was he here?

Cautiously, you turned around, your fists clenched. The flower wore a shit-eating grin and the longer you made eye contact the more his smile turned from mischievous to devious to downright sinister. “Howdy, pal! Missed me? I know I s u r e m i s s e d y o u ! Gee, aren’t you quite the grown young lady!”

 _‘hello,’_ you glanced around, hoping his loud voice would not draw attention to where you were, _‘why are you here?’_

“Just here to say hello to a very special friend of mine! Oh boy, I’m sure she’d love to meet you too!” He began to laugh, and you knew. You just knew you’d made a huge mistake. You turned away from the flower and started to run. “Why are y o u r u n n i n g? D o n ‘ t y o u w a n t t o p l a y ?” His demonic voice followed you as your feet pounded against the smooth stone.

In hindsight, going deeper into Waterfall probably wasn’t your best move, but, you didn’t want to cross paths with the flower, you weren’t sure what sort of abilities he had. It would’ve been fine aside from the fact that you’d never been to Waterfall and ultimately you got lost. Papyrus must be freaking out. Sans was supposed to have taken you home by now. This was not good. You had planned on being back at the hotdog stand before Sans came to get you. If you ever figured out how to get home, how would you explain this escapade to them?

“Ha. Who knew it was telling the truth!?” The voice made your skin crawl, and your breathing sped up. You could only mouth the word ‘no,’ as you turned around, terror etched on your face. Undyne, of course, could only be happier. “Well, you don’t seem to be within their household right now. You don’t seem to have your little guard dog, either.”

Did she mean Sans? You could almost laugh if it weren’t for the fact that you were terrified out of your mind. Of all the times you’d felt close to death, this didn’t even compare. You knew you did not stand a chance against this vengeful creature.

“Seven.” She said, “seven souls. The king has six. With yours, well, with yours we can finally leave this hell hole.” A creepy smile lit her face, “I promised Papyrus that I’d wait until another human fell, but, it’s been nearly 10 years since the last human fell. We cannot wait any longer.”

“Do you want to just forfeit your soul, or do I need to tear it from your body?” And with that it seemed the fight was on.

Your chest began to glow and out sprung the red heart which in a flash turned green. Unlike your other battles, you couldn’t will the heart to return to you, it seemed there was no escaping this. You refuse to fight, though. It wasn’t something you could do. So instead, you braced yourself for the worst of it.

Undyne began her attack, you had to weave, duck, jump, and roll to avoid the short spears that flew in your direction. There was no break for you to catch your breath. There was no “your turn,” you could only pray that your stamina lasted as she continually summoned more and more spears. You represented the hope of the monsters, you were Undyne’s last hope, and it showed with how vehemently she attacked you.

You wished things could be different. You wished you were one of them. You wished you would let yourself die for them. Maybe if you’d come across Undyne before you’d met the brothers you would have regretfully let yourself die for the monster populace. If you’d met Undyne before Toriel you’d be merely begging for death. At least then you’d have felt you had some purpose. But now? Now you had reasons to live. You had a home to go back to.

A barrage of smaller spears, almost needle like, flew toward you, and you, distracted by your hopeless thoughts, did not move out of the way fully. They skinned across your face and side, tearing at your shirt and jeans. Tearing at your skin. It wasn’t enough to put you down for the count, but it stung like nothing before.

Again and with renewed vigor, you worked to dodge and roll out of the attack’s ways. Sure, before you may have greeted death like an old friend, but now, you had two very important people that you couldn’t let down. You had to survive. You couldn’t just leave them like that.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days? You weren’t sure, but it felt like eternities. You were heaving and gasping for air, sweat covering your face and body. The cuts and bruises from her attacks stung and it made you cringe to see your ruined clothing. You couldn’t do it anymore, and for each time you stumbled, Undyne got a little bit closer to piercing you with one of those large glowing spears. You couldn’t do it.

Tears sprang to your eyes, you just couldn’t win. She was relentless. You began to move backward, hoping to distance yourself. Hoping to be able to run as far as you could. Hoping to escape. Your heel caught on a rock and you went down. Undyne paced toward you, breathing heavily, “You fought valiantly, human, but your resilience was pointless.” She hovered the spear above your heart, pulled back, and—

Before it could hit you, a large, white, bone appeared, knocking the spear off of its trajectory. The spear sunk into your shoulder instead. You screamed in pain, this pain, it was all too new, yet felt all too familiar. It was too much for your soul to bear. You could feel your heart-shaped soul begin to crack into pieces. You were going to die, weren’t you?

When Sans had shown up, his heart already telling him the worst was about to occur. Undyne was standing triumphantly over you, rearing back to plunge her spear into your heart. Sans couldn’t let it happen. It didn’t matter whether Undyne was important to the kingdom or not, you were important to him. And suddenly, he was filled with unbridled rage. In mere seconds, his eye began to glow, and fire appeared from his hands. The room became awash in an eerie blue glow. He was too slow, though, with his block. He was too imprecise, fear for your life making his hands shake.

He hadn’t taken enough care to save you.

And now he could only watch in horror as your fragile soul began to split.

He was blinded by fury, and he turned toward Undyne, his body shaking with unkempt anger. Undyne couldn’t keep the fear from her eyes upon seeing the pure hatred in Sans’ eyes.

“ **y o u ‘ r e g o i n g t o h a v e a b a d t i m e . . .** ” The grin on his face was wicked, yet before he could begin his relentless destruction you turned, blood bubbling your chest and sputtering from your mouth. You lay there, barely breathing and you smiled at him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before your eyes glazed over and you fell unconscious.

That voice seemed to awaken something within him and he doubled over in pain. A flood of memories hit him at once and he felt like his mind was splitting at the seams. The thing his soul had been screaming at him for the past 14 years finally became clear.

He knew you, and you knew him.

He’d watched you die. He’d watched you die so many times before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8; in which Frisk(13 to 14) begins to heal from her trauma. It'll never leave her, but it can become less, that is, until she feels the pull on her soul from her destiny calling her and she leaves her place of safety. It doesn't end well.


	9. A Massacre of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is dreadfully short!

You could only see white. Everything was blindingly white. “Help!” You called out into the void. There was no answer. You felt like you were floating. You felt like time didn’t exist. You felt like you didn’t exist. Then, suddenly, you were ripped from that to a scene you could only partially make out. You could vaguely sense that you were watching over yourself. Except, it wasn’t you, it was a younger you, with a Sans that was simultaneously Sans while not being Sans. The scene shifted and you watched yourself being killed by Flowey after falling through down into Mount Ebbott.

You watched your frail body break on the rocks as you fell into the mountain, or hit too hard against the ground with a sickening crack.

You watched as Toriel’s flames hit you one too many times and your soul burned slowly.

You watched as you let Toriel’s flames hit you, seeing if this mother-like figure was just as tainted as your true mother.

You watched as Undyne caught you unaware and a spear sunk into your skull. You watched as you sought out death from Undyne.

You watched as Papyrus’ gauntlet of death activated and your torso became separated from the rest of your being.

You watched yourself get electrocuted by Mettaton. You watched yourself get shoved into an oven by the beloved movie star.

You watched as Asgore eviscerated you with his trident.

You watched yourself die a thousand different times. You watched yourself die a thousand different ways.

You also watched yourself meet Toriel again and again, each time different than the last. Sometimes she’d have a vague memory of you and knew you liked cinnamon more than butterscotch. Sometimes you met Papyrus before Sans and ended up captured and sent to Undyne.

Sometimes you met Sans and he killed you on sight.

Sometimes you never even made it to Mount Ebbott. Sometimes you grew to be older and something else happened. The slip of a knife against your own skin. The taking of too many pills at once. A step taken too far into traffic. Plummeting from the window on the fifth floor of an apartment complex.

But sometimes you didn’t grow older. Sometimes you couldn’t because of an angry push from your mother that had you tumbling down the stairs, or because of something being thrown and your neck snapping from impact. Sometimes it wasn’t your mother, but your father. Sometimes your mother wasn’t the one with all of the issues, but rather, your father.

There were so many ways in which you had met your end. Yet, the entire time, throughout all the violence pushed onto you, you never willingly had turned to harming others.

There was a time, though, when you didn’t have control. When you couldn’t have stopped yourself if you tried. Your eyes, burning red with fury and hatred for both monster-kind and human-kind, only sought out death and destruction.

You watched yourself turn from the murdered to the murderer. Dust caked your hands as you gleefully slashed through monster after monster. They didn’t stand a chance before your bloodlust. Not Toriel, not Papyrus, not Undyne, nor Alphys, Asgore, or anyone. Anyone but Sans, that was.

Would he ever tire of killing you? Would he ever tire of killing the thing that possessed you?

The first time you’d met him you’d been just a young innocent thing. The second time you were hardened by the world, but still bashfully optimistic. The third time you were sad and broken. The fourth time you could only cry. The fifth time you were filled with an anger for life. An anger he’d never seen before.

It was the only time you’d let the creature within you control you. It was the only time you’d lost control. It was the only time Sans had had a real and true reason to put you down like the vermin you were.

Sans was flooded with memories.

He couldn’t believe the things he was seeing. The things he was remembering. Your smiling face, your tear stained face. Your voice as you sung quietly to yourself in the shower when you thought no one could hear your song. The jealousy he felt when you got too friendly with other monsters, the jealousy that he felt was inappropriate at times for one of his kind to feel toward you.

He remembered trying to save you so many times and being late so many times. He remembered watched the blood drain from your face, he remember lying beside you in bed as you sobbed uncontrollably, another night terror having taken hold of you.

He remembered the hatred in your eyes. He remembered removing your head from your shoulders. He remembered cracking every rib in your body. He remembered pushing you sadistically into the magma that surrounded Hotland. He remembered picking you up in his glowing blue magic and flinging your defenseless body into the wall and letting you slid limply to the floor. He remembered stepping on your windpipe and watching as you struggled for breath. He remembered all the ways in which he’d torturously killed you. He remembered the manic smile that would light his face as he flayed you, tortured you, ruined you time and time again.

He remembered enjoying your death.

He remembered loving your life.

He remembered loving you.

He remembered you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9; Frisk and Sans remember.


	10. Talk of Timewarp (Not the Kind We Want)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im literally trash, i took me so long to write this because i was sending dumb skeleton puns to my friend, please save me from this hell. 
> 
> Also, I rewrote this three times and I'm still not super happy with it. This chapter is a bit short because it's mostly just transitional, the next will have more movement to it, I promise.

He gasped for breath, limbs weak and shaking. His head was spinning, he couldn’t understand all the instant flashes of long lost memories scrambling his brain. These things… they hadn’t happened… He understood that much… yet he also knew that to a different Sans and with a different you, a very different Frisk, these things _had_ happened.

He’d never felt so sick before. He’d never felt so much remorse for killing someone before.

Vaguely he could hear yelling and swearing, but he was still too focused on trying to remember it all, on trying to piece his many histories together to bother listening. Did you remember the other pasts, too? Or could he only remember because he’d messed with time too much before you had?

You, however, could only hear their screaming. Their never ending cries for mercy, a mercy they'd never receive.

Why were you still breathing? How? If you were honest, you wouldn’t have minded dying. Especially now, as you remembered _everything._

It wasn’t you though. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t you, right?

You didn’t believe that, but you just had to tell yourself that if you were going to keep going.

You blinked and suddenly the weight of the world came crashing back down upon you. You still had a spear lodged in your shoulder. The pain was so intense and burning it took all of your willpower not to sob and cry from the pain. Your vision was blurry but you could barely make out Papyrus’ concerned face looking down on you. His eyes were flaring an orange color and he seemed to be trying to do something to you.

You lost consciousness once again.

Sans had never seen Undyne so cowed before. Normally Papyrus would be talking animatedly to her and obeying each order she called out, but currently she was only watching in horror as he attempted to heal you. He couldn’t help his flare of anger when he stared at your limp form, blood pooling around your body and dripping from your lips. But it calmed when he realized there was a staggered rise and fall of your chest signifying that you were still, somehow, miraculously, alive.

Clenching his fists to prevent them from shaking with his barely concealed rage he moved toward Undyne and Papyrus. Undyne glanced up, flinching back, she’d never seen the normally calm and collected Sans lose his cool like this before. Usually nothing could rile him up.

She couldn’t understand why, but for some strange reason these two friends of hers loved you. They loved the small, injured, broken you that laid there fighting for your life.

She only wanted to free the monsters. Humans were innately evil, didn’t they know that? So why did they care so much about you? Why were you so different?

She couldn’t understand. But as she stared at your prone figure, say the concern in Papyrus’ eyes, she found herself wanting to know. She found herself regretting ever hating you.

“Will… will it be alright?” Undyne whispered nervously.

Papyrus didn’t even deign to respond, however, Sans couldn’t help himself. “it? you can’t even call them by their name?”

He wasn’t sure how long they all stayed there. He’s not sure how long he stayed there after Papyrus deemed you safe enough to move home. He felt transfixed by the puddle of your blood that had stained the ground. He didn’t want to return home. Papyrus, who was a much better healer than Sans would ever be, had said you weren’t stable. He said you might not make it. He said he’d do his best.

Sans had suggested to try and heal your soul first by giving you monster food. Then worry about the wounds on your body second.

He must have been there for hours because soon he felt another’s presence.

“I’m sorry, Sans. You know damn well that it’s my job to find a suitable human for Asgore so we can leave this shit hole of a home.” Her breath hitched, “I should have waited.”

“you should leave.”

“I didn’t realize how important the small little thing was to you. I didn’t even consider that the human could be close to you. I didn’t know that you guys would actually care about it.”

“you should really be leaving.”

“I’m sorry, Sans. It’s my job, but, I realize I have a lot to learn.” She paused, her face flushed nervously, “I talked to Alphys. She was livid. She’d been cheering the human on from the start. She… she uh showed me some clips of the human’s escapades.”

Again, a pause, before she continued, her voice taking a hushed tone, “I brought something that should heal their soul, e-even if it doesn’t heal their body… It… It should help.” She held out something that looked suspiciously like a glamburger. He couldn’t even look her in the eye as he snatched it away before turning tail and disappearing into one of his “shortcuts.”

A week had passed before you could manage to stay conscious for more than a few seconds at a time. It took a while of lying there before you could sit up. You’d been in and out of sleep the entire time, and when you finally woke you felt parched. Your throat was raw, and your head felt like it was filled with cotton, but at least you could somewhat shift your shoulder now. You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up in Papyrus’ room, nor how you were even alive considering you felt like you had gotten hit by a train, but ultimately you decided those questions could wait. For now you had to deal with the consequence of a flood of memories you hadn’t even known you had.

Quietly you turned to the left and made a move to get up, but before your feet could touch the floor you were pushed back down. “settle down, kiddo. i’m not about to let you get up and work yourself to the bone.”

You could only smile sheepishly, you’d only been planning on seeing the state of the kitchen and maybe cleaning a few dishes, nothing you couldn’t have handled in this state. It seemed Sans wasn’t about to let you up, though. There was something different about the way he watched you. Like you were going to turn to dust and disappear. The thought made an image come to mind that you, feeling queasy, tried to push away.

“we need to have a long talk, i think, but that can wait… how are you feeling?”

A long talk? That could only bring problems. Maybe he was trying to kick you out, maybe you’d finally overstayed your welcome. Well, you weren’t sure what you’d expected, obviously he’d tire of you eventually. Plus, you had a feeling he’d remembered something of you from before. From before this timeline. You weren’t sure how you knew, but something from the previous timelines told you that he’d be the one who’d find out about your power to save and reset.

With a frown in his direction you signed, _“I feel fine… I feel… sansational.”_ Puns didn’t always come across well in sign language, but you felt like he’d understood the gist of your clumsy finger spelling.

The light returned to his eyes and he smiled softly in response, “i’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

 _“But, I’m bone tired.”_ You couldn’t help the small giggle that bubbled from your lips. He didn’t seem angry with you for leaving your station, nor did he seem angry in general. You could tell he was tired, probably even more so than you were. You wondered briefly if he’d even managed to sleep while you were out.

You had a feeling he probably didn’t.

Between taking care of Papyrus and working his jobs he hardly got enough sleep as it was, with the added stress of you being practically on your death bed, you were sure he’d not slept properly the last week, if at all.

“i’m gonna get you some water, kid, then we’ll talk.”

You swallowed, your nerves were shot. After a near death experience and a sudden remembrance of previous lives, it seemed like you should be as tough as nails. But you were only 14. You were small, scared, lonely, and hurting. There wasn’t much tough about you, you thought. He returned shortly, a large glass of water clutched in his trembling hand. He really needed some sleep, you could just tell. But judging from the look in his eyes, he wasn’t going to be sleeping until the both of you talked. Gratefully you took the water and chugged it, coughing a bit once you were done.

It soothed your raw throat. You nodded in thanks before passing him the now empty glass.

“ok, so we’ve got a lot to cover.” You looked away, unable to face him. “firstly, you can talk?”

You nodded.

“ok, well, i’m not going to be asking about the talking with hands yet… but that’ll come up later.” Talking with hands? That sounded strangely familiar.

“why did you climb mount ebott?”

You shook your head. That wasn’t something you wanted to delve into just yet.

“ok, well, uh, this is going to sound strange… i can feel it in my _bones_ ,” he chuckled and you gave an appreciative smile before he continued to talk, “i’ve met you before.”

Slowly you nodded, confusion in your eyes. You signed him a question, _“Do you remember?”_

That was the confirmation he needed, “yes. i remember most, if not all. frisk, when did you realize you had done this all before?”

 _“I didn’t. It felt familiar, but, I didn’t know why.”_ He frowned, you didn’t like when he made that face.

“as far as i can tell, you’ve never made it to the outside world like you’d been trying to do throughout all of your… timelines.” He swallowed nervously before adding, “i’m… i’m sorry… by the way.” He couldn’t help but think back to the puddle of blood and the uneasy feelings he had looking at it. He’d killed you before. He’d made you bleed so many times. He had no right to be angry at Undyne for doing what he’d done so many times before.

Cautiously, as though not to startle a wild animal, you put your hand on his shoulder and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He didn’t say anything, only looked at your curiously. You licked your lips, trying to prepare yourself to speak. Somehow it felt like it’d be okay if you talked with him.

“I… I’m sorry… too…”

It came out as more of a whisper, no inflection nor emotion behind it, just a breath of air.

“d-don’t worry, frisk. we’ll figure this out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10, in which Papyrus rescues a dying Frisk. Sans regains his mind. And Undyne loses her nerve.


	11. Never Seen This Before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well a lot of stuff just occurred, so i hope ya'll are good.

He seemed to be serious because it wasn’t soon after that initial talk that the two of you began to spend quite a lot of time together.

Now, before, you had spent time together regularly, but normally it was in companionable silence, or while you worked and he lazily called out orders to you. It wasn’t anything too close. At most you’d chat casually, but it had never been of anything with real importance. You’d merely just been friends before, nothing more nor less.

It seemed now though that you were quickly becoming best friends. The two of you often ended staying up until two in the morning discussing everything you knew about different timelines. He’d often make excuses to spend a bit of time with you before the day was over, whether it was while getting some food at Grillby’s or watching some flashy Mettaton TV show. He always had time for you. You were working hard to figure things out, and now you had Sans to help you along.

Though, it seemed that he had been busy the past few days and you had been left on your own. Something about not seeing him made you feel uneasy, and you couldn’t help but worry that maybe you’d done something to upset him. You clutched at the bag in your hand, you weren’t far from their home. You’d just been going to grab groceries, but now you were feeling apprehensive about going back to the house.

Had you misread him? That morning when you’d said hello he hadn’t even called a greeting back before leaving. Maybe he was tiring of you. Tiring of you just as your mother had. You felt cold all of a sudden. Memories of your mother coming to the surface. Memories of him killing you following soon after.

_Useless._

You blinked, frowning.

_Nobody wants you._

You couldn’t help yourself as you sat and tucked your head between your knees, bag of groceries forgotten.

_Worthless._

You shook your head and curled further into a ball.

_Why were you even born?_

“I… I didn’t ask for this,” you mumbled into your knobby knees.

_A useless, unwanted, worthless, waste of space. That’s all you are and will ever be._

You felt your face grow warm, your palms were already sweating. You weren’t sure who was telling you these things. The voice sounded like your mother’s. It sounded like Flowey’s. It sounded like yours.

Your breathing sped up, and it felt like you were suffocating, yet you remained in a ball-shape, if anything, you panic only made you curl further into yourself. As though you were trying to disappear. 

Your eyes bore holes into the ground as you felt your mind slipping. Maybe you could just sit for a while, no one would notice if you were missing for a bit. It felt like too much work to stand in any case. You weren’t even far from the house, so you weren’t in any real danger. You were the only danger here.

_The dust crumbled in your small fist. You smiled wickedly, a gleam in your eye. It reminded you of chalk. You liked the texture. You wanted to see more of it._

You gasped, blinking rapidly. _Nononono, not real. Not real._

_“ **y o u r e g o n n a h a v e a b a d t i m e”** You flinched before him, but the smirk was still plastered on your face. You lazily twirled the knife in your hand, as far as you were concerned he’d be the only one having a bad time._

You shook your head vehemently. “S’not real, Frisk. Just breathe.” But the words didn’t help.

_A flash of blue light and you felt your back snap. The pain was unbearable. He didn’t look sorry._

Tears threatened to fall, but you weren’t about to let yourself break down quite yet. Perhaps sitting down near Grillby’s had been a bad idea. There were people milling around and they kept shooting you worried glances. Shakily you stood, eyes fixated on the ground.

You turned and walked in a random direction, leaving behind the groceries you'd purchase. There was no real purpose in your steps. One of your hands lightly traced a scar that was on the palm of your hand. You remembered how it got there. You mind was fumbling through your many different pasts, some worse than others, and you pressed hard on the old scar. It helped ground you, if only for a moment. But the pressure reminded you of something else.

It reminded you of the scissors you’d scored across your leg countless times. It’s not like your mother hadn’t beaten you before, so what was the harm in you doing it yourself?

You were on edge.

You thought you’d been getting better.

Your night terrors had stopped.

It seemed like almost dying wasn’t exactly good for the mind or the body.

Sans wasn’t watching where he walked, he had this unshakeable feeling in his gut—or lack thereof—that told him something was wrong. He couldn’t keep the frown from his normally jovial face. He didn’t even see you coming before you walked directly into him.

You bounced right off and fell backward.

“well, frisk, falling for me already?” The smirk was back, but it died quickly when he took in your teary eyes. You sniffled, looked up at him, swallowed once, twice, then shifted your expression into that of a grin—albeit a watery one that looked like it was about to break at any moment, but a grin nonetheless.

 _“Hi, Sans,”_ you signed, hoping he couldn’t tell how distraught you were. You felt tired and empty, it was hard to make eye contact with him. You hadn’t even bothered standing up. You just stared blankly at his pink slippers.

Carefully he knelt down, reaching a hand over to lay on your shoulder. He didn’t say anything, you weren’t looking at him. He couldn’t imagine what was running through your mind, but based on the look in your eyes it was nothing good. He was at a loss of what to do. A memory tugged at the back of his mind. You liked hot chocolate. You liked when he picked you up. You liked to be bundled by blankets into a little Frisk-burrito. A Friskito? He almost laughed at his own dumb joke. But he sobered immediately, now was not the time to be laughing.

“frisk? you’ll catch a cold if you stay out here in the snow like this.” There was no response.

“the cold goes right through me, kiddo, but you? not so much.” He said, trying again. You didn’t even twitch. He didn’t know what to do. As much as he could remember you’d never been so… catatonic before.

“f-frisk. i’m going to pick you up, ‘k? we’re going home.” Slowly he slipped one arm under your knees and the other around your back. He lifted, you were far too light, he held your small frame tight to his sternum.

Even being moved didn’t snap you back to the real world, you hardly even noticed. As he walked toward the house he could only mumble worriedly. He was trying everything to get you to come back from wherever you spaced off to.

Soon enough you were set upon the worn and lumpy couch, and wrapped in a blanket. You could barely feel his knuckles as they moved your tangled hair out of your face. You could barely hear his worriedly muttered words. You couldn’t feel. You couldn’t hear. You couldn’t see.

It was like all sensations had been cut off.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there. Stiffly you turned your head from side to side then you slowly stretched your legs out from their cramped position. Your mind was still going a million miles a minute but you’d begun to notice little things again. Sans was sitting beside you stroking your hair. In his other hand he held a steaming mug of something that appeared to be hot chocolate.

You were Frisk. You were sitting on an old couch. You were 14 years old. You were in Sans’ home. Sans was your friend. Sans was currently sitting beside you. Your feet hurt. Your hands were cold. The sock in the corner was gray. The notes attached to it were multi-colored. The wind outside made the house creak... You were Frisk, you sat on an old couch, 14, Sans' house, friends, hurting, cold, gray, color.

You ran through the list again and again, trying to focus on the mundane rather than your small existential panic.

Sans seemed to sense the change in your mood because he stopped petting your hair and instead offered you the hot chocolate. Gratefully you grabbed it, your fingers burning from the heat. You relished the feeling, finally taking notice of how cold you’d truly been.

Sans coughed slightly, drawing your attention, “w-what was that… frisk?” He cringed, poor wording, but he had no idea how to ask that in a more tactful way, he couldn't very well ask  _"frisk, buddy, ol' pal, why ya actin' like ya died or somethin'?"_

You sipped the hot chocolate, stalling, trying to decide what to tell him. You cleared your throat, calculating how to put it. It didn’t feel like something you could express yourself appropriately. Your instinct made you want to set the mug down so you could sign and avoid the clenching sensation you already were feeling in your throat, but something told you that you should let him hear it all from your mouth, first.

“I thought about my mother.” The words came slowly, hesitantly, thoughtfully, as though you were merely testing their strength. “Then, I thought about … Flowey.” Sans’ brow furrowed, he didn’t know who that was, but it made him incredibly uncomfortable to hear the name.

“Then, I thought about you.” Sans waited with baited breath for you to continue, but it looked like that was all you were willing to say at that point. With a huff you sipped a bit more of the hot chocolate, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of comfort it gave you.

He decided to give you a little space. He moved from the couch and toward the kitchen. You immediately felt his absence and a part of you wanted his comforting presence to continue to sit next to you and continue to stroke your hair.

The drink was gone pretty quickly. You always had been terrible at savoring things, instead you tended to just eat or drink things that tasted good as quickly as possible. Sans had been prepared though as he switched your empty mug out for a full one. You smiled at him appreciatively.

“you’ve been through enough today, kiddo, don’t think i’ll forget about this, but for now, let’s just relax, s’good with you?”

You nodded, a genuine grin lighting your face. It almost reached your eyes.

He ruffled your hair and smiled in return, “heh. i bet this’ll tickle your funny bone.” You cocked your head, unsure of what he meant.

To your dismay he was being quite literal. You were very ticklish as you soon found out, and to his glee and your ultimate regret, he seemed to have discovered this fact as well.

 _“M-mercy!”_ You signed, giggles still erupting from your mouth, your breathing too heavy for words. He abided and soon the both of you sat there just quietly chuckling, feeling comforted in each other’s’ presence.

The door slammed open and a worn looking Papyrus entered, a sheepish Undyne in tow.

You yelped and Sans immediately reacted defensively, moving in front of your small form.

Well. That wasn’t expected.

Papyrus only shook his head, motioning for Sans to step off. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, am determined that we will all be friends. Alright?”

Sans scoffed, you could only gape, unsure of how this was going to be possible. Undyne pulled a blushing lizard-creature into the house behind her.

“U-uhm. Human. I brought Alphys here. She wanted to talk to you. Also. Papyrus insisted we talk, but, he didn’t want me alone with you, so well. If. You’d, like, yanno, want to listen, that’d. That’d be great.” In all your timelines you had never seen Undyne so cowed and nervous. It made you smile a little to know that she could become flustered. It’d almost be cute if it weren’t for the fact that she had rammed a spear through your shoulder about two weeks ago.

As if on cue your shoulder ached slightly and you bit your lip as you rubbed it absentmindedly. Undyne noticed the motion and frowned.

“I’m sorry, human…” She paused, “I mean. I am sorry, Frisk.” She shifted forward, leaving the lizard, Alphys, and Papyrus standing awkwardly in the entry way while Sans stood nearby, his eyes narrowed. You felt safe with him there. You knew that Papyrus and Sans wouldn’t let further harm come to you.

Unsure of if she’d understand you signed a quick, _“I mean, sure you stabbed me, but, forgive and forget, okay?”_ She turned with a lost look as she switched between Sans’ laughing eyes to Papyrus’ smiling face.

It was Alphys who spoke up, wringing her claws nervously, “S-she said s-s-she f-forgives you.” Her look hardened as she muttered, “M-maybe she f-forgives you, but I-I’m still mad.”

You tried and failed to stifle your giggle. Undyne looked at your curiously before a grin played along the edges of her mouth. You held out a hand, cautiously Undyne grasped it. You nodded at her then pointed to the couch, inviting her to sit beside you.

It was easier to forgive the tall, intimidating, fish monster when you remembered the past timelines that she’d put her life on the line for yours. She wasn’t a bad person, err, monster, she just wasn’t a patient one.

A smile took its place on Undyne’s face and she slowly sat beside you.

Alphys took this as her cue to show what she’d been harboring in her large white jacket. “I b-brought a movie. I t-thought we could b-bond over a m-m-movie.” Somehow you felt like she understood your fear of talking pretty darn well considering she, too, stuttered through her sentences. You smiled warmly at her and you tried your best not to smirk when a blush lit her yellow-scaled face, she was too much like you. Except you weren't endearingly awkward, you were just plain old awkward. Not quite as fun, really.

It seemed movie night was a go, and soon the unlikely gathering settled, Sans on your left, Undyne to your right, Alphys, then Papyrus who was beaming because his plan—or at least you presumed this was his plan—had worked so well.

Aside from your anxiety attack from earlier, it seemed things were looking up. If only you could actually believe that optimistic thought. Deep down you knew there were only going to be further issues.

You awoke suddenly with a wave of unease. Sometime between the second and third movie you’d fallen asleep leaning on Sans, but when you woke up you weren’t on the couch, nor were you anywhere you recognized. Or at least you didn’t recognize it immediately. When you blinked the sleepiness from your eyes and looked around it hit you.

Sans’ room.

You didn’t have a lot of memories of this place, and it seemed to change every time you’d come in. Sometimes it’d be terribly messy while others times it’d be spick and span. Right now it seemed to be in some weird in-between state.

You couldn’t remember ever waking up in this room alone before. Just alone? The thought made you blush. You couldn’t remember waking up in this room, period.

The bed was awfully comfy, though, so it wasn’t bad. It’d only been a little shocking. You stretched again, yawning quietly. Where was Sans?

Quiet as a mouse you tiptoed toward the door and opened it slowly, the smallest creak coming from its old hinges. You peered down to the lower level from the walkway and saw Sans asleep on the couch, a blanket hanging loosely off of his frame. He wasn’t wearing his characteristic blue winter jacket, though it wasn’t far, he seemed to be using it as a pillow.

Feeling guilty you padded silently down the stairs. With a smile you traced his jawline carefully, then moved the blanket to be more comfortably wrapped around him. He didn’t stir and there wasn’t much you could do to make him more comfortable, plus, judging from the darkness outside there was still plenty of time for you, yourself, to be sleeping. So, with a sigh, you trudged back up the stairs and let yourself be enveloped by the bed’s softness and the blanket’s warmth. A very, very, very small part of you could just briefly imagine what it'd be like to have him up here with you snuggling. But you brushed the idea aside quickly, after all, you were just having a small kiddie crush, it wasn't anything that'd last, nor, sadly, be reciprocated.

There were more pressing matters than your non-existent love-life though, and you knew that you’d have to answer some of Sans’ questions eventually, but right now, in this moment, you felt comfortable and you felt happy. The day’s troubles could wait a little bit longer, right? And all you had to do was close your eyes and let sleep take you.

The morning came and you could hear Papyrus shouting—well, to him it was only talking—in the background. Something about ‘where was the human?’ You guessed Sans had waited until the others left before setting you in his bed. You couldn’t hear his response, but you did hear someone moving toward the door.

Casually you sat up, blankets curling around your folded legs. The air was a little chilly but overall it was nice, you still had the feeling of warmth from your sleep. Papyrus gently opened the door and stuck his head in, upon seeing you he smiled.

“Hello Frisk!! It is I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, come to wake you up!! I have an idea that should set your heart at ease!!”

You titled your head in question. He took that as a signal to continue, “we will befriend the captain of the royal guard, Undyne!!”

You signed, _“Are we not her friends already?”_

He shook his head slightly, jaw bone clicking as he did. You slumped over with disappointment, it just figured that a night watching random cheesy movies would not be enough to bridge the gap between you and the stab-happy fish-lady. Papyrus seemed to lower his voice before continuing, “Come on, human! Let us go and visit Undyne!”

Sans was not going to be happy. You weren't even sure you were totally pleased to be doing this, either.

With a sigh you left the comfort and warmth of the bed and moved to the bathroom to shower and change. Papyrus was waiting by the door when you came out and Sans was nowhere to be seen. The two of you walked, hand in hand, toward Waterfall. Papyrus was a good tour guide, noting that you’d never actually seen most of Waterfall, and he was sure to point the tourist spots out as you walked.

Napstablook's house and a cute snail racing area? A shop ran by the oldest turtle-but-not-a-turtle-because-it's-a-monster monster you'd ever seen! A lovely Shyren who responded briefly to one of your hummed melodies, and the strangest if not cutest monster you'd seen yet who proudly (and loudly) proclaimed theirself to be 'TEMMIE". There was so much more to see, and if possible you wanted to come back through and talk more to the residents of this area, plus maybe a swim in the river would be fun... if there was time... if there was time, of course... For now, though, you had to meet Undyne.

The house was interesting. It was a fish shape, you guessed? Although what kind of fish, you had no clue. Overall, it was very “Undyne.” You took a deep breath before knocking gently on the door. It took no time at all for the door to be thrown open, a grinning Undyne standing prepared, for what? You wouldn’t know.

“You’re _already_  ready for your cooking lesson, Pap?!” Oh boy. Cooking. Suddenly it made sense why whenever Papyrus cooked, the noodles were too tough, the sauce too thin, and everything cooked far too much. If Undyne was as intense with cooking as she seemed to be with everything else, it only was sensible that Papyrus, too, would be an intense chef.

A memory floated to the surface of you and Undyne cooking together. It seemed you’d been through this before, it seemed like this timeline was attempting to get you back to your set route.

Well, if you’d cooked with Undyne and lived before, then you could do it again. (You hoped, at least.)

The dialogue was mostly unchanged as far as you could tell, it was difficult since your previous memories were a bit hazy, but you knew what to say and which refreshment drink to choose. As it had in the past, Undyne’s house was falling apart. She was definitely taking Papyrus up on the challenge to become your friend.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics. When it came time to cook you gently did everything how you had taught yourself which only led to infuriate Undyne. She was impatient and soon took over, adding a bit too much flare into everything she did.

Soon the house was on fire.

Everything was falling into place.

Undyne and you couldn’t help but just laugh as you watched her house be buried by the flames.

“Maybe I am a bit too harsh. This is probably why Papyrus can’t cook anything very edible.”

You shook your head, a smile playing at your lips.

 _“No, I think you’re just right.”_ Undyne didn’t catch all of the words, but what she did she understood. She ruffled your hair, a pink tinge on her scales.

It was time to move forward. You told Sans as much the next time you saw him. You explained carefully that in all the other good timelines, the ones where you had almost made it out, that you had needed Undyne’s friendship to get that far. And now that you had it? You were pretty sure it was time to move.

He wasn’t a fan of the idea and cajoled you into staying a few more months. “For your health” was his reason.

A lot had changed for you since your fall. One thing, you were nearing fifteen. How was it that time could fly by so quickly? How come you enjoyed growing up down here? Down here where monsters, if they ever found out you were human, might want to kill you?

It was because of Papyrus’ warmth and Sans’ humor and Undyne’s undying friendship. It was because for once in your god damn miserable life you felt wanted.

And now, for once, you had a purpose.

You, personally, didn’t want back on the surface. There was nothing for you there. It only held bad memories and pain, yet, whenever Sans or Papyrus talked of the overworld you could only see hope and happiness glimmering in their eyes. They wanted to see the sun. They wanted to see stars, real true actual stars. They wanted to feel fresh grass on their boney feet and feel a summer’s breeze against their skulls.

Sometimes you wanted to as well. You missed the stars and the fresh air. You missed listening to the rain drum against your window and you missed the sun shining on your face.

When you’d first fallen you hadn’t wanted to return, when you met Toriel, you hadn’t wanted to leave. When you met the skeleton brothers you hadn’t wanted to move on. When you met Undyne you hadn’t wanted to flee.

The Underground was changing you, and you weren’t ready to be leaving it. Maybe that’s why you were still alive. In all your other timelines you’d raced through the world and flew through the different “story-arcs,” but this time you only slowly meandered through life down here in Underground. You enjoyed it, you savored it.

You still spent most of your time helping Sans with his various jobs and helping Papyrus to create more elaborate traps, and the days passed quickly like that, but, again you had to bring up the idea of moving on to Sans.

“so you’re headed to hotland then, kiddo?” You nodded. You didn’t feel like much of a kid anymore, not like you had when you’d first fallen. You knew fifteen wasn’t very old in the scheme of things, but when you thought about it, to nearly-immortal creatures like monsters, age wasn’t really a concept they ever considered. You were a kid until you weren’t. And personally, you felt like this was you becoming not-a-kid.

Even Monster Kid had grown out of his striped sweater phase.

“I’m going to save you.” You mumbled. He titled his head, the bones in his neck clacking against one another.

“save me? save us? kiddo, you need to save you first.” You could only shake your head in response.

Weakly you whispered, “I already did.”

He didn’t quite understand, and he probably never would fully understand. You’d never told him about your life before the fall. He’d asked on different occasions yet you never felt like elucidating what life had been like for you on the surface. He’d probably just get mad, you reasoned. No need to disillusion him about the freedom that the surface would inevitably provide.

You grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting it drop. With a heavy heart you turned and walked out the door and toward Waterfall. You’d probably make it to Hotland before nightfall.

The heat was nice after the chilly atmosphere of Waterfall and the even colder Snowdin. You found yourself meeting quite a few monsters you’d never seen before. Vaguely, you wanted to go into the other cities in the Underground, but first things first you had to meet Alphys. Or, rather, remeet her.

The lab was large and ominous, the droning of the Core was eerie and it didn’t help you feel any calmer as you made your way up to the building that looked far too out of place. The door was automatic, and just as in other timelines, the room was dark. You could see yourself in a large monitor as you passed it by, but other than that you couldn’t see a whole lot of the room. It wasn’t until you made it to the opposite side of the building that the lights flicked on and a harassed-looking Alphys stumbled out of what appeared to be the bathroom.

Your knowledge of the Underground would soon be very limited after this next part. As far back as you could think, you’d never actually seen much of Hotland, and you’d only made it to Asgore a total of two times before you inevitably met your end. Any memories of making it this far were hazy and blurred.

You and Alphys began to talk, or, mostly she talked at you. There was little to no difference between this talk and the ones of other timelines, that was until she brought up Undyne and Sans.

“M-may I?” She asked, gesturing toward your previously-injured shoulder. Despite the ugly scarring it was healed mostly. Without further ado you pulled the neck of your shirt down to show her the bright pink skin. She frowned, still clearly unhappy that Undyne had done such damage to you.

 _“It’s been almost a year, it’s okay now.”_ You signed, trying to ease her conscience. She nodded.

“You’re a-awful close to S-sans?” That came out of nowhere. You didn’t say anything in response, you weren’t even sure if that was an actual question or more of a statement. She began to play with the buttons on her coat before she looked up nervously, “I-I just m-mean it’s k-k-kind of surprising is all…” Clearly you weren’t wanting to discuss this and she soon took the hint and dropped the subject.

“I s-should warn you. M-mettaton is going to be returning soon. H-he’s not exactly fond of h-humans. N-nothing I say c-changes his mind.” Alphys paused then smiled slightly, “I-I think I c-can help you th-th-through Hotland. There are a l-lot of puz-puzzles.”

You nodded, returning her shy smile. It would be a blessing to have her help.

Just outside her lab there were two of what appeared to be Royal Guards, they motioned for you to stop, but only asked where you were heading. You weren’t sure if you should be truthful or not.

You shrugged. They didn’t seem to like that.

You felt your soul being pulled from your body and they both moved into offensive positions.

Dodging spears wasn’t exactly your favorite thing to do, but after getting hit with Undyne’s wrath you were fairly skilled at the act. Soon, though, the second guard was too hot from all the action and movement and removed the top half of his armor. This only seemed to upset the other guard. It took you a second to put two and two together but when you had a break from being attacked you moved toward the first guard and whispered him some encouragement.

That was one problem solved, it seemed as they half-confessed to each other, forgetting you entirely. Pretty soon you were again on your way toward what appeared to be a castle.

The puzzles themselves weren’t very tough, you found. You had more difficulty actually getting to them than solving them. Alphys soon discovered that and did her best to guide you to each different puzzle.

After having stayed in the Ruins and then stayed with Sans’ and Papyrus’ for so long it felt strange to be moving forward. Unlike when you had originally left the Ruins and originally went into Waterfall there was no force pulling you further into Hotland.

It felt strange. All the other times you’d felt that it was your destiny to free yourself and the monsters, yet, this time you only wanted to sit on the couch with Sans and joke about the dumb shows you could watch. You wanted to play a silly game with Papyrus or help Undyne to cook.

You didn’t want to leave. There was nothing waiting for you up there.

The castle was larger than you expected it to be. It felt so empty and lifeless though. The grayscale walls and silent corridors making you uneasy. From the windows you could see more of the Underground. There was so much more to the monster-civilization than you had ever imagined. Briefly you wondered if there were other skeletons like Sans and Papyrus. What about fish-people? Were there others like Undyne? Or Alphys? You’d like to meet them, if there were.

You felt afraid.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to do this. You couldn’t fight Asgore. And you certainly couldn’t kill him. But how else where you to remove the barrier? What other option was there?

“Howdy!”

The voice made your flesh crawl. How did he always find you so easily?

“Golly, Frisk! You sure made it so far, but, well, sure did take you long enough, now didn’t it!?” The falsely cheery voice was unsettling, but you steeled yourself and met Flowey’s gaze head on. You were filled with determination.

He cackled, “I can’t wait to watch you die.” And with that last remark he disappeared.

You were frozen in fear, dread worming its way through your body. You knew. You just _knew_ that things weren’t going to be simple. Your limbs shook in fear but gradually you calmed yourself enough to start walking again.

“wait, frisk!”

You jumped, your nerves shot. Sans moved toward you and grabbed your hand, gently spinning you to face him. He was trying not to laugh at your reaction.

“little jumpy, aren’tcha?” You frowned in response. Now was not the time for jokes. You searched his eyes, trying to figure out why he was here, “frisk, i.. i..”

You never got to hear what he was about to say because your phone began to ring. You blinked down at it, it seemed Papyrus was calling. You didn’t say a thing as you put it to your ear, and you probably wouldn’t have been able to even if you’d wanted to. Papyrus was going off about one thing or another until he finally slowed down enough to explain why he actually called. Apparently he wanted you to deliver a letter to Alphys.

Now? Now of all times?

He hung up before you could respond, not that you even knew what to say. Sans made a face, he could probably hear his brother’s overly loud tone through the phone.

“well, looks like things can wait. you’ve got a letter to deliver.” He chuckled and turned to walk away. Before he disappeared he sent you a wink over his shoulder. You blinked and he was gone.

You’d literally just made it to the castle and now you had to walk all the way back to Snowdin to get a letter? “Coulda given it to me before I left…” you muttered exasperatedly. Ah well, at least it gave you time to think.

You made your way back through Hotland.

Undyne was grinning at you, a slight blush coloring her face as she held the letter out to you. Gingerly you took it, feeling curiosity about what it contained. She warned you not to lose it, and as a second thought called out to your retreating form to “not open it, either!”

You sighed. You were not looking forward to yet another walk from Snowdin to Hotland. Thankfully you didn’t have to walk the entire way, a ferry was stationed at the entrance to Waterfall and they offered you a ride all the way to Hotland.

You could feel your stomach churn, it seemed this side-quest of sorts was going to be over far too soon and you’d be left to face Asgore on your own again. The boat ride was over all too soon.

Cautiously you walked up to the lab and when the door didn’t automatically open you shoved the letter under it. A scrambling on the other side told you the letter had been received. Soon a flush-faced Alphys peered out at you.

“D-did you write this?” You shook your head. She only looked confused, “W-who wrote this?”

 _“Undyne.”_ Alphys gave you a cold look suddenly, “d-don’t joke with me.” You tried to assure her you weren’t kidding. Instead she took that to mean that it was you that wrote the letter and you were only being shy. She was a lizard on a mission as she began frantically changing and preparing herself for the date you got roped into.

This was all _very_ new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11; Frisk(15) has a moment, but ultimately gets shit done. Now she and Alphys are about to have a moment. :'D


	12. The Truth Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we jumped a bit forward, sadly no date with Alphys was included.
> 
> This one is a lot shorter than last chapter, but I hope you still like it!

The air was cold, the lights flickered off and on. You couldn’t even breath the air was so stale and the walls covered in moss and mold. You carefully moved further into this secret-lab, your footsteps echoing off of the barren walls. The place gave you chills. You wished you weren't here right now, but the memory of Alphys' awkwardness on your pseudo-date and her sometimes misplaced kindness filled you with determination. You had to find her!

Where could she even be? Where was Alphys? You’d seen her vague note and followed it with your decision to look for the short and shy lizard-monster. It turned out the bathroom was not a bathroom at all. It was, in fact, a secret lab within her lab. The “true lab” seemed to be a fitting name.

The note in question reminded you a bit of yourself.

You wished you’d noticed earlier that Alphys was probably going through what you yourself had struggled with time and time again, it was obvious the two of you shared some similarities, so it should have been obvious to you. Sometimes it was hard to see though, hard to see what was wrong with others, hard to see what was wrong with yourself. You remembered once, when you were just 12, running into traffic under the pretense of being in a hurry, yet on the inside you felt your pulse slow and you prayed that something would hit you. You hoped that a car would kill you on impact. You were so tired of this life. You couldn't remember if one did or not. The low ache you felt on your right side hinted that maybe it had...

You weren’t even sure if that had even happened in this timeline or in another. It was hard to tell sometimes, seeing how you’d always been a bit troubled in each lifetime.

The halls echoed as you marched your way through them, it seemed to be abandoned but it didn’t feel empty by any means. It felt like there were presences watching you from all over. Your skin crawled. As you walked through the hall of mirrors it felt like something was going to pop out at any second.

Why had you gone down here?

Ah, yes, Alphys. Back to Alphys. It seemed like even the short time you’d known and talked to her you found yourself taking a liking to the shy and awkward monster. She was so sweet, if not a bit nerdy and silly at times. You felt like this was what was meant to happen, yet at the same time being down in the darkest depths of this lab felt so wrong. It felt like an abomination and you didn’t even know why. You glanced at yourself in the mirror briefly and did a double take.

That was not your face.

That was definitely not your face at all.

And sure enough, it wasn’t. From the mirror came a creature of the likes you’d never seen. Somehow it seemed like someone had played a cruel joke and grabbed various monsters and … blended them into one… _thing._ It made your heart leap into your throat and it took all of your willpower not to retch. After all, that’d be rude. The… creature probably had feelings... probably...

Instead of being sick, which was what you wanted to do, you waved. Your attempt at being polite seemed to fall flat though as the thing moaned horribly and inched toward you. He... She... They seemed keen on fighting. You were keen on running, so you did. Not fast enough though because you felt your chest began to glow and a slight tug on your very soul and when you turned in dismay you saw your soul floating prone. The monster leaped toward the heart shaped piece with a horrible yelp and on instinct you rolled out of the way, your fragile soul following suit.

Thinking quickly you tried joking with the creature. It only moaned in response before moving to attack you again. You bent over backwards trying to avoid getting hit. Thank god for all of those horrible gymnastics classes you had been forced into when you were much younger. This time you tried humming to the creature, which seemed to elicit more of a response than the joke had, but it still attempted to attack you, albeit less aggressively.

You tried one last time, taking a deep breath before humming once more. It worked because the thing muttered its own hum of sorts and retreated shortly after. These creatures seemed to be like the monsters you'd met before, they didn't want to fight, or at least they didn't want to _kill_ you, which was better than nothing.

Even the lab had puzzles, though it wouldn’t be the Underground if it wasn’t filled with puzzles, apparently. Did monsters not have anything else they could create? Like another goddamn way out not using souls? You sighed. There was no use in being angry. Anger had never solved anything for anyone.

You had to find Alphys. You needed to find the generator. Surely this place wouldn’t be as frightening once the power was on, right?

You were wrong.

You weren’t exactly sure how many of those creatures you’d faced, but once you had realized they were just combinations of different species of monsters you'd met before, it was fairly easy to placate them. You only had to guess which types of monsters the creatures were made up of. The dog-like one was by far the creepiest, yet somehow it was the cutest, too. They just wanted to play and you were more than willing to entertain their whims.

It took you a few hours to explore what you could of the lab fully, and it was with great relief that you had found each key and found the room with the generator in it. You could finally power the elevator and hopefully find a perfectly healthy Alphys.

The lights didn’t make the place any less terrifying, which, really, was just a shame. Before you could do much more than take a step away from the generator there was a horrible moaning noise from the doorway and several different of the creatures began shuffling toward you. You had nowhere to run, only a deep and dark drop off into what you assumed to be nothingness or you could move toward the six aggressive looking Amalgamations. This would be your end, it seemed.

“Hey! Y-you guys, I have your food right here! Leave... Frisk alone…” The voice which had started out strong faltered slightly, however the creatures obeyed her as they slid away from you. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry about that, Frisk. T-they get a little a-angry when they’re not fed on time.” You smiled in response before moving toward her and wrapping Alphys in a hug. She was okay. That’s all that mattered. She was okay.

“F-frisk, I… I’m sorry. Now you know the horrible truth… how can you even touch someone like me. I’m a… I’m a failure.” She muttered, clutching you despite what she said.

You only shook your head before burying your face in the crook of her neck. It made you feel sad. A pang of wistfulness. Perhaps you’d never have fallen down Mount Ebott if someone had held you like this. If someone had cared enough to find you when you tried to run. If someone had just wanted you.

You broke away to look her in the eye. You signed slow and sad, _“I thought you weren’t going to be here anymore. I was afraid we had lost you.”_

Alphys nodded solemnly, “Y-you probably would have… Undyne, Papyrus, you. You guys a-all b-believe in me so much. And all I am? I’m j-just a horrible de-despicable liar.”

 _“No, you were just scared.”_ You tried to smile comfortingly, _“I… I think you will feel better if you tell everyone.”_

Maybe you would feel better too if you told everyone of your own past.

The thought made you feel ill as you and Alphys moved toward the elevator.

Perhaps not.

You muttered a surprised “oh,” as the elevator opened up to the abandoned halls of the castle. Here again? Alphys glanced at you then peeked around the corridor. “I-it’s time t-to go, Frisk.”

You tried to walk assuredly toward the end of the hall, the pillars large and a part of you remembered what it was like to be thrown against them. To feel your back snap from the collision. You shuddered involuntarily. Alphys looked at you worriedly before speaking, “T-this is… this is where I leave you…”

“B-but, Frisk, I-I’m sorry I lied to you…” You cocked your head questioningly.

“Y-you… you have to have Asgore’s soul if you w-want to escape.” The thought made you sick. You refused to kill him. You refused to use his soul. She, seeming ashamed, waddled quickly away without sparing you a second glance.

Alone now you let your nerves catch up to you. You felt like hell. The horrors of the True Lab had been too much. As you read through each journal entry and each experiment you could barely wrap your mind around the monstrosity that had occurred down there. You thought of the amalgamations, of those poor tortured souls. They’d never return to normal and it made you sad. You shivered remembering the hopeless noises they’d made and felt bile rise in your throat when you thought of their clumsy and angry attacks. Hopefully Alphys would help them, finally. She had seemed like she was ready to face the world.

You, however, were not. You weren’t prepared for this at all. You could feel your pulse rising and a ringing in your ears. Fear coursed through you. What lay in store for you at the end of this hall? What was going to happen to you?

Sans. Apparently.

He waved lazily, before moving forward. “it’s weird, huh, seeing as we both remember this from other times.” You nodded. “i mean, well, i don’t really need to give you the spiel about love versus LOVE or EXP now do i?” You shook your head. “frisk…”

“I’ll be… I’ll be okay, Sans.”

“no, frisk, i… i don’t want you to get hurt.” He took another step forward, “frisk, what is your plan even? we both know you’re not going to fight asgore. so then what? you let yourself die? and what? next timeline we don’t even remember each other. we don’t know each other. and you have to struggle your way through this hellhole a couple dozen more times.” He had moved so you were only a foot apart. You could feel your heart pounding away in your chest. You’d worked so hard to get this far. You’d worked so hard for _them._ It wasn’t you that wanted out. You’d have been contented to stay there eternally. _They_ wanted to leave. You had done all of this for _them._

“I have to go.” You were shaking, he seemed to notice this as he reached out to grab one of your trembling hands. He tried to look comforting and gave a gentle squeeze.

“please, frisk, i…”

“No, Sans, I have to do this. I have to do this for you guys. It’ll never end if I don’t.” Your breathing was harsh, your words tumbling forth in a hurried mess.

“I have to do this.”

He nodded and stepped away to let you pass him by. You didn’t look back as you walked the down the rest of the hall. Knowing him, he probably hadn’t stayed anyways.

It was silent once more. Only your muffled footsteps broke the heavy atmosphere. There was a staircase leading down to your right and a large archway to your left. Wanting to stall before you had to face Asgore you took the staircase down. It seemed never ending. You wished you hadn’t gone down it.

There were seven coffins. Six of them were closed and the one nearest to you was opened slightly. It made you uncomfortable to see the red heard engraved atop the casket. Was this to be yours?

You didn’t like the room. Swiftly you turned and ran back up the many stairs. You wanted to escape that troubling sight. In haste you went through the other door and ran up to a house that was eerily similar to Toriel’s home back in the Ruins. You entered and even the inside was the same. The stairs that led down into the basement were chained off, and you read the note attached. There would be a key in the hallway leading to what, if this was like Toriel’s house, had been “your room”. There would be another key in the kitchen, or near it.

Silently you walked to one side. Your hand gently brushing the wall as you took everything in. It was almost an exact replica of Toriel’s home. Was this where she lived when she was queen? You stopped at what would have been your room and entered cautiously. You felt like you didn’t belong, like you were an outsider, you didn’t want to push any boundaries, but it seemed no one was home to catch you being a snoop.

The room was similar to your one back in the Ruins. There were two unopened boxes laying in the center. Carefully you went over and peeled back the lids. One had a heart locket which on impulse you picked up and placed around your neck. The other box held a dulled knife which gave you mixed emotions. A small part of you wanted to pick it up and test its sharpness. But most of you only wanted to seal the box up again and never see it.

You opted for the latter. The keys were fairly easy to find, and there was nothing of further interest in the house, so you unlocked the padlocks and made your way downstairs. Unlike in the Ruins this basement wasn’t a real basement at all.

The change in scenery was drastic. From dulled grays to a garden filled with more of those golden flowers. None of them seemed to be moving and talking, so you presumed it to be safe. You crept forward, not wanting to gain the large beast’s attention. His back was turned and he was kneeling slightly, probably tending to his flowers.

With no warning he turned, a smile on his face, “Nice day today, huh? Birds are singing, flowers are blooming... Perfect weather for a game of catch.” His smile faltered, “If only the circumstances could be different..” You kept your face neutral. He moved to another room and after a second of hesitation you followed him.

“I so badly want to say, ‘would you like a cup of tea?’ But... You know how it is.” His speech pattern reminded you of Toriel’s, you could imagine them together; they had probably been cute. He smiled again before moving further on into another room. You hadn’t expected him to be so kindly. He didn’t want to fight just as much as you didn’t want to.

Slowly you followed him, silent as always. He turned once more before saying, “If you come to the next room…” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence in any succinct way. You got the point.

This was your last chance. You could turn and run. You could leave. You could go back to Sans and cry and beg and he would take you back to his home in Snowdin. He’d let you stay. No one would fault you. You were barely a child but you were still only a child.

But you thought of Sans’ face when you spoke of the stars. You thought of his disbelief when you told him of the planets and the galaxies that the surface world was discovering. He’d acted like you were lying when you told him that the humans had built ships to explore these distant places.

You thought of the hope in his eyes when you described the starry night sky and the wind on your face and the snow as it fell and the rain as it drummed against the roof of your house. You could see how much he wanted this despite how he would never pressure you.

It filled you with determination.

_For Sans. For Papyrus. For Alphys, Undyne, Monster Kid, Toriel, for the monsters. For the six children who had fallen before me._

_For them I will do this. For them I will find a way out._

With one last look around the current room, you figured you’d stalled enough and moved into the next room. You could hear a low humming noise coming from down the hall and guessed that was the barrier.

Asgore glanced at you, sadness in his large, kind eyes. “How tense… Just think of it like… A visit to the dentist.”

You nodded once. Tears came forth, but as always you refused to cry. Instead you just tried to smile, making sure he knew it was okay no matter what came next. The two of you walked to the barrier, he spoke once more, “Human… It was nice to meet you. Goodbye.”

You felt your soul be pulled into battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12; Frisk is freaked tf out by the True Lab. She also meets with Sans briefly before continuing on to fight Asgore.


	13. Overtale?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, this chapter has a lot of dialogue (some of it taken directly from the game) hope you don't mind!
> 
> and there WILL be more after this! this is just the end of the beginning. :'D

He swung his trident toward you, his face no longer reflecting the kindness you’d witnessed before. You only saw sadness and enough determination to rival your own. You dodged to the left and prepared yourself to dodge again when suddenly you noticed a flame racing toward him that he seemed to not see. You wanted to warn him, but couldn’t find your voice before it hit him and he, startled, flew back from the force of it. He must have hit something pretty hard because you heard a crack, you winced in sympathy despite the fact that he was planning on killing you. You tended to be a little too forgiving.

Toriel moved into his place, a light smile on her face, “What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth.” She paused, the smile growing, “Ah, do not be afraid my child.”

“We are here for you.” She gestured behind her and you felt your heart grow warm upon seeing her and the other friends you’d made. You searched out Sans and he winked when you met his gaze. Papyrus spoke up quickly, announcing that it was under his direction that everyone had arrived. When asked how he knew you needed help and where to find you, he spoke only of a small yellow flower.

The feeling of dread hit you like a bullet train.

Sans had thought the flower was an echo flower being used to taunt Papyrus, you hadn’t even bothered to make the connection then. It hadn’t seemed suspicious to you at the time. It all clicked now.

You knew now exactly _what_ and _who_ it was.

 _“Flowey.”_ You signed, fear taking over your face. They didn’t have time to react to your revelation. A loud cackle was heard and suddenly there was a blindingly white flash.

“You guys are idiots.” Flowey was everywhere, his vines grabbing at your friends, he smiled and lazily waved a leaf at you. There was a wolfish hunger in his eyes. He was going to kill you, wasn’t he? He was going to kill them all, wasn’t he?

You’d never felt so cold before.

“I thought it’d be fun to see my old pal, Frisk, again. On my way here, though, I found a little treat.” A sadistic smile. “Six human souls.” He snickered, the sound was demonic and it set your nerves on edge. “Well, you probably couldn’t imagine my surprise when I saw them there. Golly me, I just took them right on up.”

He let himself grow, his face becoming distorted and he became something unrecognizable. He only laughed while squeezing harder on your friend’s, they couldn’t move. They wouldn’t even attempt to escape. Flowey could only grin, a manic, terrifying, horrible grin. “You can’t i m a g i n e t h e p o w e r.”

“I am a god.” He turned to you, an eager smile on his face. You didn’t bother saying anything, what could you say? ‘Please stop’? Yeah, right, like that would solve everything. If it had been that easy, well, you wouldn’t have died so many times before. There was nothing you could say to stop this. So, instead of retorting or attempting to beg for what you assumed was going to be the rest of your short lived life, you only gave him a look of pity. Your mouth was downturned and sadness was seen in your eyes. You didn’t feel hatred or anger like it seemed the flower did. You only felt regret for the fact that you could not save him.

He was unable to be saved. He was unsalvageable. He was beyond help.

It took you a moment to register that he was in the middle of what appeared to be a rather long monologue; you hadn’t even noticed his sneered remarks, you’d been too focused on your own internal thoughts. When you heard him pause for breath only then did you look up again. You saw your friend’s dangling bodies and it only served to fill you with further determination.

Their suffering would not be in vain.

He seemed to notice the change in your stance and the look in your eye because you could see a flash of fear reflected in his own. He tightened his grip on the limp bodies before cackling once more.

“ **D I E** ”

If you’d thought Toriel, Undyne, or Asgore were difficult opponents, you’d clearly been mistaken. You weren’t sure how long your body would last under the endless rain of bullets. You didn’t have the stamina. You didn’t have the strength. Hell, you barely had the lung capacity.

He never gave you a second to pause or catch your breath. You had no chance to do anything. You soon found yourself covered in bruises as you ducked, rolled, jumped and moved away from the bullets the deformed-flower spewed toward you.

Apparently, he was serious about killing you again and again as he surrounded your tired soul with a circle of bullets—his eyes gleamed with uncontained glee. There was no dodging this. You knelt to the ground, fear in your eyes, waiting for them to hit.

But nothing happened.

You glanced up and saw Toriel’s eyes glow as she blocked his attack with her fire magic. Frustrated, Flowey tried again. Undyne blocked for you with a bright blue spear, despite the thorny vines that wrapped her torso. Sans. Papyrus. Alphys. They protected you. They wanted you to be safe… they cared?

You were filled with determination. Flowey was filled with hatred. And his patience was wearing thin.

“You i d i o t s. You can’t save this human! You cannot save anyone.”

You tried to steady yourself, to stop yourself from screaming, when he absorbed their bodies. He only seemed to become more powerful.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you again and again and again. It’ll be fun to watch the light die from your eyes until you’re begging me for a true end.” You felt the world shift and your soul was pulled forth once again.

Now came his true attacks. A barrage of bullets flew toward you, exploding outward as they came, fire from the side, large flies homed in on you; it was utter chaos. You could only move so fast before you felt your flesh burning from the hits—until you felt your soul shatter.

Then you blinked at you were back at the beginning of the fight. He clearly was ready to kill you again and again.

You could only wonder when he would grow tired of it.

For each of the hundreds of times Sans and the others killed you, Flowey nearly doubled that. You, however, were beginning to learn his attacks and each time you were able to dodge a little bit faster, anticipate the next move, find ways to escape his ceaseless attacking.

You could see the souls of the children he’d absorbed begin to fight his control. He’d use them to attack you, and you, panicked, called for help. They soon began to respond to your voice, sending you attacks that healed rather than hurt. Each soul helped you in their own way. They each left him to surround you. He was weakened. He was scared. He was desperate.

And desperate people do desperate things.

You could feel the world shifting again, you felt your soul be pulled toward him. You watched as your surroundings were sucked into the vortex he’d created. He was really playing god, and he was really going to kill the world.

A sick grin lit his face as you faced each other in the darkness. There was nothing left, he commented on that. He might have been impressed that you were still managing to be alive, if it weren’t for the fact that it drove him crazy.

“Ah, well, no matter, child. You will not be able to best my true form.” You scoffed. True form? What was this, an anime?

Apparently you spoke too soon.

He resembled Toriel more than Asgore, you realized. Was this Asriel? Their dead son? How in hell? He only smirked, as he looked down to take himself in. His eyes were as black as night, his voice gravelly and deadened, and his presence overwhelming. He stretched an arm forward and you felt your limbs twitch involuntarily. Your body flew toward him of its own accord. He was far too powerful.

“I must thank you, pal, you really did a number on little old ‘Flowey’ there. Ah, well, let bygones be bygones, no?” He paused dramatically, you squirmed beneath him—trying to free yourself from his magic, “No? You are right, sister, we cannot forgive so easily.”

He crushed you with his magic. Your body a tangled mess of limbs. You faded from existence only to blink and awake once more in front of Asriel. It was sickening to realize that perhaps this was your fate. You were going to be killed relentlessly. There was no hope. You didn’t even have access to save nor reset. You couldn’t save yourself.

The _real_ fight began.

His attacks were different than Flowey’s—omega-Flowey as you deemed him. They were more restrained in some lights, however they were more powerful in others. Rather than just endlessly attacking you and giving you no place to pause and breath, he instead controlled his attacks more. They were more refined. They were more devastating.

You lost count of your deaths. You lost count of the ways your body gave out. It seemed never ending.

But as with Flowey’s fight, each death only brought you a little further into the battle. You lasted a little longer, moved a little faster, prepared yourself a little better. You were slowly learning his attacks and how to dodge. Maybe… just maybe you could do this.

An hour passed and you hadn’t died yet, unlike your other attempts. You were in unknown territory at this point, but you’d pieced together his method of attack. He seemed to grow frustrated by your survivability. You only grew more determined.

And as your determination grew, so did a feeling in your soul. Your destiny was pulling you forward.

“My friends…” you whispered, “can you hear me?” They were there, inside of Asriel. Inside his soul. They existed. They weren’t gone. They were out of reach, but you felt that they knew you were there.

You could save them.

“T-Toriel?” The figure was hazy, you could see a form that looked like Asgore standing beside her. Asriel looked on in disbelief. They moved to attack you and you rolled out of the way. “Toriel! Please! I don’t want to hurt you!” She seemed to twitch, as though she was remembering something.

It wasn’t enough, however their next attack was less vicious.

“P-please, Toriel! W-we could go back to the Ruins! Right? Cinnamon and butterscotch… We could.. I-I don’t know.” Your voice was hoarse, it was difficult to keep doing this. Your hands were shaking, your breathing harsh. Your words trembled in the dead air. You felt so vulnerable.

Toriel gasped, blinking suddenly. Her vision seemed to clear, and her form become more solid. “Oh, my child!” Asgore smiled at you both proudly and kindly. Their faith in you filled you with determination.

You reached out again with your soul and felt a familiar presence.

Undyne and Alphys.

With tears in your eyes you called out to them, “I-I forgive you Undyne! I just want you back though!” One of the figures shifted slightly, it seemed like they were beginning to doubt things, yet they still moved to attack you.

Dodging, you tried again, “U-uh, I t-think…” you paused trying to shift through old memories of these two friends. A dumb idea struck you, “I think Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2 was… was better than the first!”

That seemed to do the trick as Alphys looked at you with indignation, “What!? It was neither kissy nor cutie! It ruined Mew Mew’s whole arc!” They blinked in recognition when they saw you, and you felt your heart swell at the warmth in their eyes. They believed in you.

Asriel looked furious but before he could do anything to stop you, two more figures came forth from his soul.

Sans and Papyrus.

Your first true friends. They’d been so important and so kind. What would you have done without them?

Their attacks were similar to each other, and briefly it gave you flashbacks to all the deaths that Sans had caused you. You had to ignore those memories. That was then, this was now. It was so much more important to think of the present than of the past. They needed you. You needed to know they were going to be okay.

“P-Papyrus… I… please, we can j-just go have spaghetti, right?” The forms shuddered, but continued their bone attack. Breathing heavily you attempted a joke, “B-boy, I… I am sure b-bone tired! I-it might be bone headed of m-me b-but… I.. I just want you guys back.”

They blinked in recognition, and smiled at you, but before you could cry with joy, Asriel had lost patience and moved to attack you.

Maybe… maybe he was just a lost soul like your friends? Could you save him, too?

You could feel your friends’ souls resonating within Asriel.

You called out to the other presence you felt. You called out to what you assumed to be Asriel.

“W-what did you do? What’s this feeling? What’s happening to me?” His eyes closed briefly, then opened. They were black and empty and filled with mistrust, “No! NO! I don’t need ANYONE!”

“A-Asriel… we don’t need to do this…” You mumbled.

He swung forth, filled with frustration and you barely dodged the fire. He seemed more enraged than ever before. His attacks becoming almost desperate. One of the fireballs hit you and you cried out from the injury. You couldn’t give up now, you could feel something there. You could feel his soul and his wishes.

You took a step closer.

“Stop it! Get away from me! Do you hear me!? I’ll tear you apart!” He raised his hands again and prepared to attack, you were ready to dodge, but what came at you was weak compared to anything before. His anger seemed to be fading.

“C…Chara, do you know why I’m doing this? Why I keep fighting to keep you around…?” His next attack was slower than the first, he didn’t even seem to be aiming for you.

“I’m doing this because you’re special. You’re the only one that understands me. You’re the only one who’s any fun to play with anymore.” The words tumbled from his mouth so quickly you could barely register what was being said. Did he call you Chara? As Flowey he’d never done that. Why did he start now? Who was Chara?

What did it mean to him? The name rang a bell, but you couldn’t place it. He had referred to you as sister and as Chara? Was he talking about the first fallen child? The one Toriel had told you about? Before you could think about it further, he attacked again. But this time you didn’t need to move, nothing came close to hitting you.

“… No… That’s not JUST it… I… I… I’m doing this because I care about you! I care about you more than anyone else!” The next attack did nothing to you, you barely breathed, confusion was all you felt.

“I’m not ready for this to end. I’m not ready for you to leave. I’m not ready to say goodbye to someone like you again…” You didn’t move, the fire rained gently around you, not touching you once.

“So, please… STOP doing this… AND JUST LET ME WIN!” He raised his arm with renewed vigor and aimed toward your soul. You braced yourself, a cruel mixture of fear and curiosity keeping you in place.

A beam formed and was directed at your vulnerable soul. The pain was unlike anything you’d experienced before, and, to be fair, you’d been through quite a lot. Yet you kept struggling to live. You stood there and took the attack head on. You let the pain sear you, but you refused to die here. He screamed, “STOP IT NOW!!!” as he continued to blast you.

How you survived, you would never know.

“…” He was silent, eyes downcast, he looked defeated, “I’m so alone…” You reached toward him, “I’m so afraid…” he whispered.

“I…” He trailed off, you called out to him again, “I…”

He became so much smaller then. In every single way. When he finally met your eyes, you saw a child in them. He was shaking. He was sad. There were tears in his eyes and they slowly trailed their way down his face. He cried out, “I’m so sorry!”

You let him cry, waiting for him to speak once more, he straightened, and looked at you with tired eyes, “I always such was a crybaby wasn’t I, Chara?” You resisted the urge to shrug. Now was not the time to be funny.

“… I know… You’re not actually Chara, are you?” He looked downward again, trying to ground himself, “Chara’s been gone for a long time.”

“Uh… uhm… what IS your name?” How could this child be both Asriel and Flowey?

Your will to speak was gone, your voice tired from overuse, with shaking hands you signed, _‘Frisk.’_

He seemed to understand, “Frisk? That’s… a nice name…” A light smile touched upon his face, “Frisk… I haven’t felt like this for a long time. As a flower I was soulless, I lacked the power to love other people. However, with everyone’s souls inside me… I not only have my own compassion back… But I can feel every other monster’s as well.”

His eyes closed, “They all care about each other so much. And… they care about you too, Frisk. I wish I could tell you how everyone feels about you. Papyrus… Sans… Undyne… Alphys… Toriel… Monsters are weird. Even though they barely know you… It feels like they all really love you.”

His laugh was almost bitter, “Frisk… I… I understand if you can’t forgive me. I understand if you hate me. I acted so strange and horrible. I hurt you. I hurt so many people. Friends… family… bystanders… there’s no excuse for what I’ve done.” He looked ready to cry again.

Cautiously you walked toward him, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t want to startle him, like he was a small fragile animal, and, in some ways, he kind of was. You didn’t want him to hurt though, and despite all he’d done, you couldn’t just leave him on his own.

“What? Frisk… You’re… You’re gonna make me cry again. Besides… even if you do forgive me… I can’t keep these souls inside of me. The least I can do is return them…”

He turned around, “But first… There’s something I have to do. Right now, I can feel everyone’s hearts beating as one. They’re all burning with the same desire. With everyone’s power. With everyone’s determination…”

“It’s time for monsters to finally go free.”

The world turned white.

_The barrier was destroyed._

You blinked and you were once more in the darkness with Asriel. He stood still for a moment then turned to you again, “Frisk… I have to go now. Without the power of everyone’s souls… I can’t keep maintaining this form. In a little while… I’ll turn back into a flower. I’ll stop being ‘myself’. I’ll stop being able to feel love again. So… Frisk… it’s best if you just forget about me, ok? Just go be with the people who love you.”

You ran toward him and hugged him tight. Gingerly, as though he was afraid you would break, he put his arms around you and leaned his head on your shoulder.

Your heart felt heavy. Saying you felt pity for him or that you were sorry for him didn’t describe the feeling you had. What you felt was much deeper than that. The feeling was akin to losing a loved one. Asriel shook with grief, he seemed to be trying not to cry. You wished he would cry. You wished he’d cry enough for both you and him. You wished you could truly save him.

“Ha… I… I don’t want to let go…” But eventually his arms dropped back to his sides and on cue you took a step back to face him.

“Frisk… You’re going to do a great job, ok? No matter what you do. Everyone will be there for you, okay?”

You didn’t think that _you_ were the one in need of a pep talk at that moment, but you let him finish anyway. He turned away from you, signifying he was done.

“Well… my time’s running out. Goodbye.” He began to walk away, only pausing once to ask, “By the way… Frisk… take care of Mom and Dad for me, ok?” He walked into the distance and the world turned white once more. You lost consciousness.

_“It’s just a bad dream! Please, wake up…!”_

You woke up with a start. Worried faces were crowded around you and you could barely register what was going on. They immediately hushed once they noticed you were conscious once more. You tried to sit up but couldn’t.

“woah there, frisk, take it easy, ok kid?” You had your head in Sans’ lap, Papyrus was sitting beside him. They both looked at you with shock and wonder, like you had risen from the dead—which for all you knew, maybe you had. Toriel was on your other side, kneeling beside you and holding your hand in a vice-like grip. Undyne and Alphys were holding hands, you noted, and they smiled at you with what looked like relief. Asgore stood apart from the group and looked on the happy scene with a worried smile.

“Oh! You are awake! Thank goodness.” Toriel eased up on your hand and watched you with warmth in her gaze.

“W-we were so worried! It felt like you were out forever,” Alphys said, a nervous smile on her face.

“Yeah, any longer and I would have freaked out! Tell us next time you decide to take a nap?” Undyne cut in.

“yeah. you made papyrus cry like a baby.” Sans stroked your hair gently, his characteristic grin making you smile.

“What!! I didn’t cry!!! I don’t cry!!! I just… caught something in my eye..”

“what did you catch?”

“Tears!!!” Papyrus said, tearing up again as though proving his point.

You sat up finally, the heaviness in your heart gone as you smiled at your friends. Your love for them, and it filled you with determination. You stood on shaky legs, Sans supporting you slightly. You wanted to laugh. You wanted to cry. You wanted a very long nap. You did it. Through all the timelines, all your deaths, all your struggles, all the pain you’d experienced. You had finally done it. The barrier was broken.

Asgore spoke up softly, “Now, now, the important part is that Frisk is all right. Here, Frisk. Why not drink some tea? It’ll make you feel better.” You accepted it gratefully, ignoring that it was a little cold now.

They watched you carefully, none of them seemed to know what to say. They could tell you were exhausted, they could see that you’d been through some huge trauma, but they had no idea what had happened to you. It was apparent they did not remember.

You weren’t even sure you could begin to explain it.

You were saved from having to ask how much they remember when Toriel gave you some space and made the others follow suit. Toriel talked about coming to help you, then there being a flower, and then losing all memory after a white flash of light.

She told you that the barrier was down and that you’d all go outside together once you were ready.

You couldn’t hide your excitement. You were so ready.

You grabbed Toriel’s hand, Asgore grabbed yours. It felt like the mother and father you wished you had. You could feel their affection for you. It didn’t matter that you were fifteen years of age. You felt like you were twelve again and scared and suddenly you’d met a creature that was more like a parent to you than anything you’d had before. You felt safe between them, and when you smiled up at the two of them—despite the fact that Toriel was determinedly avoiding Asgore’s wistful glances—you felt like a true family.

Together,  hand in hand, you left the Underground.

The sun seemed to just be rising, the air was cool, but nice on your skin. You breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of the trees, the dirt, the mountain. You hadn’t realized how much you missed feeling the sun warm your face, nor the sound of birds singing in the trees, or the sensation of a crisp breeze against you.

You finally had done it. You’d finally freed them. Your destiny had been met.

Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys joined you guys soon after. Together you watched the sun rise as it lit the surrounding landscape. The forest below you was large and beautiful, the mountain to your left ominous and demanding. There was a city to your right. The monsters were gushing about the splendor of it all. They talked of how amazing it was to see and there were more than just a few comments about “wow, Frisk, you lived with this!?” or “how could you ever want to leave this?”

You didn’t want to ruin their happiness. You stepped away from the edge you were at and watched them instead of the rising sun. These things, although beautiful, were soured when you saw the city. It only made you think of home. It only made you worry that you would end up back in that place with people who didn’t love you.

There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach, and nagging thought. You couldn’t place it exactly. Asgore was saying something but even then you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on him. You’d done your job, you’d freed them. The loop was done, right?

You didn’t want it to be over.

You didn’t want to be alone again. You wanted to be wanted. They didn’t need you anymore. You could feel your fears crawling up your back, whispering into your ears. Telling you about how unnecessary you were. You tried to keep your mind off it, you tried to listen to the monsters talk excitedly about their future and what the surface held for them, but you couldn’t. You were only thinking about how you’d served your purpose and now you would have to return home.

Your anxiety was becoming intolerable, you knew if you kept thinking like this you’d work yourself into an anxiety attack or even further and into a panic-attack-state. That’d be just like you, wouldn’t it? To ruin a good moment with your own selfishness. To ruin their happiness just because you were afraid…

They wouldn’t know if you reset. They’d never remember. You yourself wouldn’t even remember. Sans wouldn’t know what the sun felt like on his face. You could do things differently…

You could do it all over again.

“Frisk.” The voice broke you from your treacherous thoughts. You blinked up at Asgore, “I have something to ask of you. Will you act as our ambassador to the humans?”

You nodded, trying not to give away the traitorous feelings you’d had just seconds before.

Toriel turned to you then glanced at everyone with a serious expression on her face. They took the hint and quickly made their excuses to leave. She laughed in response, “seems like everyone is eager to set off.”

She knelt down so she could talk to you face to face, “Frisk, my child. You came from this world, right…? So you must have a place to return to, do you not?” She averted her eyes from your face, like she didn’t want to see the answer just yet. Like she was hoping for something from you. “What will you do now?”

 _“I want to stay with you,”_ you signed, worried that she would turn you down.

She seemed taken aback but also pleased, “I suppose… if you really do not have any other place to go… I will do my best to take care of you as long as you need. Alright?”

She stretched a paw out toward you, you took it gladly, “Now, come on, my child. Everyone is waiting for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13; Frisk does their god damn job. and also like, you know, saves monsters from hundreds of years of imprisonment.


	14. Determinedly Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just went back and edited the typos, please forgive the clunky writing, this was done at two in the morning.

The sun was nice on your face. It’d been so long since you’d felt it.

You and Toriel had your work cut out for you. The two of you, unlike Asgore, were not just foolishly hopeful for a completely peaceful integration of two entirely different cultures, let alone the fact that it was two different types of beings altogether. Humans and monsters? To humans, monsters were just a myth used to scare children and the occasional gullible teen or adult into being good.

How in hell would humans deal with creatures who could fly, or ones with horns, or ones shaped like nothing in particular, or speaking balls of flames? They couldn’t even react appropriately to the differences within their own kind without starting wars—yeah, creating concepts such as "race" to make themselves feel better about their poor treatment of others. War, violence, slaves, those zealots who would stop at nothing until their values were held to the highest by everyone. If history was any indicator, humans tended to be a bit controling.

Why had you been so dead set to be on the Surface again?

Ah, yeah, because “freedom”. Pah, who needed that?

You sighed and rolled over in your bed again, closing your eyes against the light that trickled in through your slightly opened-curtains. Sure, it felt nice, but it also only reminded you of the fact that you should have already been up and lively and helping with the building of this little town of Ebott. Clever name, huh? Yeah, you could probably guess who came up with that gem. Name the town after the mountain that had imprisoned them! Brilliant.

In all honesty, you couldn’t understand how the monsters were so okay with being so near what had previously kept them trapped for years upon years. They were certainly forgiving, aside from the whole “trying to kill you and succeeding quite a few times” thing.

That was another thing that was tiring you out. More than just continually working and helping everyone to make a home in the first monster settlement, you found yourself losing sleep at night. Without the comfort of the Underground and the constant need to be doing things for everyone and the threat of death always looming over your head, you began to have nightmares more frequently than before. Without those other distractions you had too much time now to process those memories of other timelines and the cruelty your parents had shown you.

And, although you wanted to hate your parents. You couldn’t. Kids weren’t supposed to hate their parents. They were supposed to be happy to have been born, right? But you weren’t. You never asked to be born. You were a mistake, a stain upon your mother’s name. You never asked for her to fuck up both yours and her life. But, you felt guilty for even thinking that. You couldn’t hate her, she was just as broken as you were. What with the abusive parents and her husband who left her? How was she even supposed to be regular, especially considering she was constantly struggling with poverty? Plus, you just left her without a word… a note? That’s all you’d done? She must have been frantic. She probably felt guilty for being relieved, too.

Kids should love their parents. You should love your mother.

And being killed by your friends too many times to count was no picnic either. If you didn’t wake up in a cold sweat over a lamp or coffee mug that your mother threw at your retreating form, you woke up screaming as you felt the sensation of your skin being slowly burned from your body or the feeling of every bone in your neck snapping, you could go on and on about how it felt to die, though, for your own sake you tried not to think of it much. It wasn’t exactly pleasant. You didn’t have pleasant dreams.

And the nights where you weren’t being abused in your sleep? You were the abuser. You were the murderer. You were the cold-blooded killer. You’d likened the dust to chalk, or sand, and you had enjoyed playing in it like an innocent child despite the fact that you had over a hundred monster’s deaths on your small, vile hands.

The memories, when you’d first got them, were so clear, but as you spent longer and longer Underground they had faded again. They’d been something you’d only think about when you were under high stress or were anxious or scared. But now that you could relax, now that you didn’t have to continually stress about how to deal with saving monster kind, and you only had to worry about grabbing a few essentials from the Underground and helping the citizens to move their possessions to the Surface, you had a lot more capacity to worry about things you never wanted to think about again. You had a lot of time to relive those memories that you’d tried to tuck away.

“Frisk, my child, are you awake, yet? I’ve made us round, flat cakes using the pan. They’re served with syrup and butter, I believe?”

You sat up groggily, glad that she’d interrupted your spiraling thoughts. You could almost giggle at her description, but tried to look serious when you signed, _“You mean pancakes?”_ You'd found out that while monsters had a lot of human food and recipes, they also did not have as much of it that you'd originally thought. They had all of their own food and culture, anyway. Theirs was far more interesting than you own, you thought.

“Ah! Is that what they are called? Well, the name is very fitting.” She smiled, a proud look in her eyes, “we have something similar in the Underground, but they are not prepared the same way. I thought it might be nice to have a more human-like meal in order to kick off the beginning of our negotiations with the humans!”

She couldn’t have looked happier if she tried. You felt your heart swell with affection. How could you be thinking about the dreadful moments of your past when you had such a bright shining future with Toriel and Asgore? They’d love you like you wished to be loved… (Sure, they'd tried to kill you and had killed you a few times, but really, at this point, who hadn't?) and thankfully they’d never know of the other side of things. The things that both you and Sans knew. They’d never have to regret letting you live, or feel guilt for what they’d done to you in other lifetimes.

Wait, did she say the beginning of negotiations? That was today?

She must have seen the panic flash across your face because she only chuckled, “Do not fear, we are only meeting the ambassadors of other… I believe you call them countries, they seem more like kingdoms to me, however that is neither here nor there. We are only having a short meeting to get acquainted and discuss where each monster should live based on necessary climates and such.”

It was too early for this. _“Pancakes?”_ you signed eagerly.

Toriel knew how to cook. This sort of sticky-sweet food was the kind of comfort food you needed. She smiled, a bit of sorrow in her eyes, as you shoved more of the food into your mouth. She was probably thinking of her two previous children. Sometimes you wondered what they’d been like. Of course, you met Asriel briefly, but even then, he was probably a different Asriel than he had been before. You’d never met Chara, as far as you were aware, though you felt a connection to the other fallen child that was inexplicable. You never felt that kind of bond with the other six fallen children though, only the first. Maybe it was just because Asriel thought you to be the same person at one point.

“You seem to be deep in thought, Frisk, would you like to talk about it?” She jolted you out of your thoughts once more.

 _“No… No, sorry mom, I’m okay!”_ You tried to smile calmly, you had important things to do, you needed to stay present. Tonight, in the safety of your room, you could start to think about all that had been bothering you. Besides, you’d only been on the Surface for a total of three days, there was no need to move too fast and try to figure these things out yet.

“If you are sure, child…” A frown touched upon her face but you blinked and it was replaced by her typical sweet smile, “Sans will be picking you up today. He said something about taking you to ‘New Grillby’s’…” You could hear slight disapproval in her tone.

She was naturally protective of you, and though her and Sans were great friends and texted daily, she still didn’t like you spending so much time around someone who was so much older than you. Although, in your opinion, since they were all technically immortal, was age even a factor anymore? It wasn’t as if she’d be any less approving if it were Papyrus, Undyne, or Alphys you spent time with the most. She just wanted you to be happy, and she also a little wanted you to hang out with people your age, not just a bunch of timeless beings.

She nuzzled the top of your head before leaving to let you finish eating. Hurriedly you ate the last of your third pancake and moved to clean up. If you knew Sans, and you were pretty sure you knew him fairly well by this point, he’d be late. So if he said he’d be here by ten in the morning, he probably wouldn’t arrive until eleven or eleven thirty. He was never on time unless it was important.

So, imagine your surprise, when you walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, hair wet, to see him leaning against the door frame a smug look on his face.

“did you forget?”

“N-no,” you stuttered, face red. You self-consciously tightened the towel around yourself.

“i’m sure toriel would not be happy if that’s how you were leaving the house.”

Your brows furrowed, the blush on your face deepening, “w-well, you know how it is, w-when you’re always dripping with good looks that is…” Jokes were not easy to make when you were feeling so embarrassed. He raised his brow at you, but laughed all the same.

You scurried back to your room to change. The weather was nice today, so it might be fun to break out the summer gear Toriel had bought you on your guys’ first trip into the nearest town. There had been plenty of stares, even though the media had been fairly quick to jump on the new story, with flashy and kind of dumb titles like, “Monsters, No Longer Myth!” or “Monster Magic? More like Monster Madness!” or  "Monsters? In OUR world?" They were dumb but you didn't mind.

It did get tiring at times and a bit annoying. It was just like click-bait but instead of just silly articles with eye-catching titles on the internet, this new wave of monster-information was being shoved at you through the television and any faucet it could find itself in. You already lived with monsters, you didn't need to be reminded that they existed.

But Toriel had loved the mall and the people, despite some of them showing minor fear of her. Overall it had gone better than you’d expected. There were no snide remarks, nor was there just outright screaming or panic. Everyone had been generally friendly.

She’d gotten you a cute blouse to go with a pair of high-waisted shorts she’d also purchased for you. It was unlike anything you had owned before. You’d never really owned brand-new clothing, usually getting your clothing from second hand stores and never being able to find your size. You always loved overly large sweaters and comfortable pants. It made you feel protected and safe.

Maybe just to be cozy and err on the side of safety, you’d put on leggings and a loose shirt. You didn’t quite feel comfortable enough in your own skin to be showing off too much of it yet. There were others who had your type of body and stature and looked amazing in whatever they wore, and you cheered them on from the bottom of your heart, but, well, you never did much like wearing things that drew attention to yourself. Inconspicuous was best, after all. Or maybe that was just your self-esteem talking.

You could hear Sans call from the other room, with a silly smile you came out and signed, _“Sorry I’m such a lazy bones!”_ He chuckled appreciatively at your joke.

It was time to go. He reached a hand toward you and you accepted it, eyes shining. It’d been a little while since you’d gotten to have alone time with Sans, and it’d be nice to go get some good greasy food at Grillby’s.

He must have discovered shortcuts above ground already because in a flash the two of you were transported to the side of Grillby’s. He led the way, your hand still clasped firmly in his own, and opened the door for you. You signed a quick thanks and then moved in toward the bar. You could see the replica of your’s and Sans’ usual seats, but Sans tapped your shoulder and pointed toward a booth.

This was different.

There was something about sitting face to face with one of your best friends on something your adoptive-mother probably assumed was a “date” that made you feel nervous. He sensed your unease but chose to ignore it, he had other things to talk to you about.

“so, frisk, been a while, huh?” You smiled and nodded. Sure, it’d been about a day since you last saw him, but it’d been nearly a week since you’d actually had time to spend with him and him alone. You missed your best friend.

“i actually have something to ask you…” He swallowed nervously, avoiding eye contact all of a sudden. It made you even more anxious, you weren’t exactly sure what he was going to say, “i mean, kiddo, you’re good at avoiding topics and all, but it’s been a few years and i…”

“why did you climb mount ebott?”

You were not prepared to answer that at all.

You weren't even sure how to answer it without breaking down.

You shrugged, not willing to say anything.

“ok… i understand you don’t want to talk about it…” He paused, “but, well, tori is gonna expect ya to _pa-tell-a_ her about it at some point.” You managed a small giggle.

“she mentioned that she was worried if your previous family was looking for ya at all, and, kiddo, i can understand her worry.”

You nodded miserably, why couldn’t this have just been a nice little outing? Without a serious discussion…

“are your parents alive?” He asked, trying to gauge your expression. You would be a skilled poker player with how neutral your face was despite the inner turmoil you had. These questions only made you think more of your worried thoughts from this morning.

“Sans… I… I had a really rough night… I can’t talk about them right now…” you whispered, your voice quivering despite the indifferent mask you wore. In a flash he was beside you, arm wrapped around your shaking shoulders. As always there were no tears, but just muffled whimpers.

“i’m sorry, kiddo, i should have waited… i’m just worried about ya…” You sniffled, burying your face into his jacket. “how ‘bout you spend the night at my place? pap, you, and i can have a nice evening, ok, kid?”

You looked up, relief in your eyes, and smiled. He returned the smile before moving back to his side of the table. You immediately felt his absence, but tried to ignore it. He was always so warm, strangely warm, unexpectedly considering he was no skin, just bones.

He smirked, as though guessing your train of thought, before quipping once more, “just like last time though, kid, you aren’t getting’ out of this discussion that easily.”

“I promise to tell you tonight.” He winked and you flushed.

A waiter walked up, saving you from further embarrassment, and took your order. Sans, as always, got himself a burger with fries that were soon to be drowning in ketchup. You ordered a light salad, still queasy and full from the delicious stack of pancakes you’d eaten earlier. Besides, Sans would always let you steal a few fries.

The two of you made light-hearted small talk for the rest of the time, staying until well after your food was eaten and done and your drinks finished. You almost didn’t want to leave, but you knew you had responsibilities to fulfill and expectations to either meet or, with luck, exceed.

You could feel in your heart that today was going to be good, despite the rough start and the potentially rocky road ahead of you, today would be good. You’d meet with other dignitaries of various other lands and discuss the monster-situation, as you liked to call it. You’d go home and enjoy dinner with Toriel, and Asgore. Then you’d spend the night at the skeleton brother’s cozy home.

It surprised you a little bit that Toriel was the one who suggested Asgore join you and her for dinner, but you were ecstatic at the chance to spend time with your little misfit family.

Sometimes when people experience great hardships together, it makes them hard to be near each other. It only served to remind them of what had been lost. And they both had their own ways of dealing with grief and sadness and lost. But they couldn’t ignore each other forever, the old wounds from their pasts wouldn’t disappeared if they were ignored. Wounds didn’t ever truly fade if not properly looked after.

Even so, sometimes it was hard for you to face Sans, especially as you had spent some time above ground and had more time to reflect on past timelines. It was hard because he knew what you’d done, and you knew what he’d done. But it helped because you could support each other and understand one another. You figured it was the same for Toriel and Asgore. They had good memories together, many of them, but they also had bitterness.

Despite whatever had happened though, they were they only ones who understood each other. They had raised and lost two children together. You knew that you were like another chance for them, a chance for them to find happiness, and though it didn’t mean they had to find happiness together, you were glad they weren’t hating each other. You were beyond ecstatic that they were mending their burned bridges.

It felt like a complete family. If not a bit of a strange one.

Happy family thoughts aside, you didn’t realize how nervous you were for this meeting. Toriel had assured you time and time again that it would be easy and simple. She’d told you so many times that “it’d be over in a jiffy,” and “just be your cute adorable self, Frisk, and you will do fine.” But, that wasn’t the kind of advice you needed, although you did appreciate her attempts to help.

And though she didn’t tell you what to say or how to appropriately greet the other members of the meeting, her silly words did comfort you somehow. Her light tone combined with her complete and utter faith in you made you happy. It, as it were, filled you with determination.

The proceedings were as smooth as could be, despite the dignitaries’ slight surprise that the ambassador for monster kind was a human—a human child no less, but it faded quickly when you talked, or rather, signed, of your experiences of the Underground and of life with the monsters. You managed to evade discussion of any of your near-death experiences, and the other ambassadors, although full of questions, seemed to genuinely like you and the monsters. The introductions and preliminary discussions ended fairly shortly.

And soon, you were walking hand in hand between Asgore and Toriel on your way back home. You may have been fifteen, but with them you felt like you were finally getting your childhood back. You could be as small and needy as you wanted and as affectionate as you needed and they loved you unconditionally. Asgore had been very awkward the first day he spent with you, but he’d warmed up soon after and was now a father-figure of sorts. Not that you’d ever had much experience with having a true father figure. You were just glad you’d get to spend time with both your “goat-mom” and “goat-dad”.

Dinner was an uneventful affair, which was nice considering how exhausted you felt. You and Asgore made small talk while Toriel finished preparations for the salad and the desert. You loved listening to Asgore tell stories of the time before monsters had been trapped below ground. It was always sort of mind blowing to you that these two monsters had lived years, decades, centuries before you were even a thought in the scope of the universe. It was so interesting to be able to hear of what life was like before any of the wars.

It fascinated you, the time before the war, the time during the war, the time when monsters were forced below ground and had to settle in the Underground—how the Underground had been so different than the one you’d grown up in after your fall. He told you many things of the culture and history of monsters, but never talked of Asriel or Chara, nor of the six human souls he’d reaped, and you never wanted to ask. You were contended by learning of the monsters’ history and hearing the tales of long, long ago.

_“What would it be like if you hadn’t been trapped?”_

He paused, his eyes trailing up and to the side, as he thought. You couldn’t even fathom the idea of being born into a world that was already accustomed to humans and monsters coexisting. It’d been so surreal the first time you’d fallen into the Underground, like learning all your life about what were supposed to be myths and legends and then waking up one day and discovering they had been true all along. The existence of monsters always made you wonder what else was real that humans only disregarded as fictitious.

“I am not sure, young one. Part of me wishes to say that humans and monsters would have found peace by now and that we would coexist, however, part of me wonders if perhaps we’d still be fighting to this very day?” He snorted, clearly displeased with the idea.

Toriel chose this moment to pitch in, “I, for one, am almost grateful for the years below ground. How else would I have met you, my child?” You smiled and giggled. Toriel was too kind to you. It was almost too much to bear sometimes since you felt as though you did not deserve her love, nor her hospitality. But she never seemed to mind your antics, and always seemed to genuinely love your presence.

What with how much she called you “my child”? It was hard not to feel comforted and safe living with her.

Asgore nodded stiffly, he didn’t completely agree, and it was obvious Toriel didn’t either since how could anyone enjoy being trapped against their will? But they were being sweet in their own way and you didn’t call them out on their false compliments.

Soon dinner was finished and the three of you sat around sharing the day’s news before you made your way to your room to pack a few small items to stay the night at the skeleton brother’s home.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited. It’d be nice to spend some much needed time with the silly brothers.

The sun was set and darkness was all you could see through the windows. It was the perfect movie-watching conditions. A message on your phone from Papyrus told you that whenever you were ready you could head over.

Sans messaged you that he’d pick you up, not wanting to risk you walking around in the dark. Gratefully you accepted and he appeared a second later.

Today had been a good day. And tonight would be a relaxing night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14, goat-mom, goat-dad, and Frisk(15) have a nice day. Frisk has a meeting with representatives of other countries. Frisk also has a little not-a-date with Sans.


	15. You Can't Have Fluff Sans Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very dialogue-heavy, so I apologize ahead of time.

It wasn’t quite dark, but it was definitely getting there—being about almost seven by now. The dusky sky was a pretty purple turning into a deep blue, and the stars reminded you of the luminescent stars in the Underground. How strange that while this skeleton, your friend, wanted nothing more than to see the stars, you had wanted only to live below and gaze at the beautiful crystallites while staying where you felt the most comfortable. Where you felt like you finally belonged. How could you, who got to live with the beauties of the natural world for most of your life, not appreciate being above ground? How could you, having a taste of the surface, want to live, trapped and below ground with the monsters?

If you were honest you sometimes considered going back. But the thought tugged at your heartstrings and made you feel guilty for even wanting it. How could you do that to your friends? The same friends who loved you so unconditionally. The same friends who’d killed you as well… It could almost be retribution to make… _No, no, that’s awful. That’s selfish. They would hate you. You’d hate yourself even more than you already did if you did that to them._

The walk wasn’t bad and it wasn’t very long, despite it being a little quiet. It seemed both you and him were deep in thought. You could only vaguely wonder what was running through that skull of his. You never were able to guess what he was thinking about. He was an enigma, afterall. Where everyone else remained the same through timelines, more or less, he was always the one that changed the most. You weren’t sure how he always seemed to be outside of time’s confinements.

A breeze picked up and you shivered. He held an arm out to you and gladly you moved closer, allowing him to wrap his jacketed-arm around you. He was a lot warmer than you figured a skeleton should be. The wind bit at you once more. The weather had been weird, during the day the sun would feel so nice and warm, especially after years without it, then night would fall and it would get cold so quickly. You figured any day now there would be snow, it made you excited. Your breath made clouds and you briefly remembered being young and jumping and pretending you could breathe frost or fire like a dragon.

He could almost feel your emotions as he watched you from the corner of his eye. Your head bobbed to whatever little rhythm was running through your head, and he could see the flickers of a smile play along your lips and the nostalgic look in your eyes. He wondered what you were thinking about. He wanted to know what memories you seemed to be replaying.

But he also enjoyed the quiet comfort he found in walking side by side. He enjoyed just being in your presence, there didn’t need to be any banter or silly jokes—once you’ve known someone for long enough it was so easy to just bask in their existence and be content. And, well, you two had known each other for many years, more than just what was in this timeline, you had memories of every timeline before that. Every time you’d met and become friends again and again only led to strengthen the friendships you’d forge in the future.

But, he knew it couldn’t be that easy. He knew he’d done things that were unforgivable. He knew you had too, but you were only a frightened human who had no control. And it’d only happened once. Every other monster in the Underground had killed you times upon times. Too many to count.

He couldn’t imagine the nightmares you must experience.

He could feel his guilt eat at him.

All too soon the two of you arrived at the small two-story house. It was made similarly to the one from the Underground, although there were no decorations on the outside as of yet. You were pretty sure Papyrus was just trying to plan on where to put them all, he was always very meticulous about where things went—unlike Sans, you noted.

You broke away from him and entered the house, he slowly let his arm drop, almost wishing you’d stayed with him for a moment.

Relaxing? What had you been thinking? There was almost nothing relaxing about staying over at their house.

However, you couldn’t complain. You were loving their silly antics. Papyrus was standing in the center of the cozy living room, a blanket tied over the top of his signature red cape, serving as a secondary and even “greater,” as Papyrus deemed it, cape. He seemed to be doing his best impersonation of Mettaton doing their best impersonation of Asgore. And although you weren’t particularly interested in Mettaton’s shows, but you loved watching Papyrus flail and move about the room with such command as he reenacted every moment of the movie. Papyrus was such a fan, and impressively enough, quite the actor.

It was the perfect end to a so-far perfect, if not hectic, day. Sure, your morning had been a bit rough, and despite a bump in the road on your “lunch-date” with Sans, you’d enjoyed yourself. You’d felt loved, and you knew you were loved. You just needed time to be able to accept the fact. Time to try and figure out the “what if’s” that plagued your thoughts.

Shortly after a clock in the house chimed out nine tolls, signaling it was Papyrus’ time to retire, the house became just as quiet and relaxing as you had hoped for earlier. Aimlessly you tidied the somewhat mussed up living room. It was the least you could do, you figured. That being done, you curled up in the corner of the couch, preparing yourself for your talk with Sans once he returned. He, as he did every night, had gone upstairs with Papyrus to read a story.

It was kind of cute, in a silly sort of way. You weren’t sure who took care of who more, but you could just sense the pure and powerful love they had for each other. It made you feel almost envious sometimes, though you’d never wish them any unhappiness. You only wished you could feel so certain in your love for someone, and know beyond a doubt that they loved you back just as much.

He padded down the stairs as quiet as a mouse, the house was dimmed partially, and he could hear Papyrus’ rattling snores from the other room. He always felt so relaxed after reading their bedtime stories. It was something they had always done when they were much younger, and habit had made it a tradition. Upon entering the living room he’d expected to find it a bit messy after Papyrus’ exaggerated performances, however somehow it was much cleaner than he had left it. You’d probably gone and straightened some things up while he was reading to Papyrus. It made him smile, you were always so thoughtful. Though, now, you were just sitting, wedged into the corner of the sofa. You looked so sweet, your head lolled back against the arm of the couch and your mouth slightly open. He watched as your eyelids fluttered, you seemed to be having a dream. He wasn’t sure whether or not to let you sleep there, or move you to a comfier place.

After a moment of debating, he decided on having you stay in his room. He didn’t mind crashing on the couch for a night—he’d slept in far less comfortable places. He moved toward you, as he tried to be careful not to wake you. You blinked groggily at him, apparently you weren’t totally asleep. _“Sorry, I am tired.”_ You signed sluggishly. He frowned, “frisk, go ahead and sleep, okay? we can talk another time.”

But you were determined, having now been roused from your almost-sleep, to talk to him tonight, like you’d promised. “N-no…” you mumbled quietly, “I can s…” a yawn broke up your words, “sleep another time.”

You stood up, taking the time to stretch luxuriously. It felt nice when your joints popped, and the sound was almost satisfying. Sans poked at your side and you, startled, squealed, hunching yourself over, covering your sides. When you opened your mouth to berate him a yawn interrupted the thought.

“c’mon sleepyhead. i’ll just carry you.” You tried to protest, but he could tell from the exhaustion in your frame that you weren’t going to complain in earnest. It was kind of nice to just get picked up like you weighed nothing more than a feather.

He smiled before dropping you unceremoniously on his bed. “well, if you’re sure you wanna talk tonight, we’ll have our little talk, then it’s time for you to sleep. otherwise you’re gonna have a… _bed time_.” He winked, obviously pleased with his silly pun. You couldn’t help but snort, which only made him chuckle slightly.

You sat up, then, suddenly sobering and gestured toward the bed. You might not have been completely awake, but you were definitely more lucid than you’d been earlier. As though he sensed this, he nodded at you and sat down stiffly. You turned toward him, while he faced away, and folded your legs beneath you. You might as well get comfortable, you figured this would be quite the tale to tell.

Memories were never fun.

In fact, memories were some of the most awful things you could think of.

When you were freed from the Underground, along with the monsters, you no longer had something driving you. You no longer had a goal to work toward nor someone to save. You had nothing to distract you from the night terrors and anxiety attacks. The guilt and anger and frustration you felt. From the “what if” thoughts that haunted your existence.

So the fact that you were willingly reliving these experiences—the fact that you were willing to divulge your history to someone? Well, that person had better feel pretty damn special, because you didn’t do this for just anyone. With a deep breath, you began, the air tense, and somehow Sans seemed to be even tenser.

“You know? Daughters are supposed to love their mothers…” You trailed off, “I was born a daughter… sometimes I don’t feel like a daughter, maybe I feel like a son, maybe I feel like nothing at all, but that’s neither here nor there,” you clenched your small fists, not even a sentence in and you could already feel your throat closing off. It was hard to talk about. It was hard to trust someone with these memories, they were still so raw and painful to you, even after years.

“I wasn’t a very good daughter. I wasn’t a good child. I was supposed to love my mother and my father but I wasn’t very good at it.” Sans didn’t breathe, not that he needed to in particular, but it felt as though any sudden movement and this trance you were holding would shatter and you’d close yourself off. He’d known you for so long and bared so much of his soul to you that he was almost in awe when he could finally see pieces of yours, too.

“My grandmamma, she was a nice lady, but she left. She passed, actually,” again, a pause for air, “and well, my father didn’t do well with that. He kind of went a bit sad then a bit angry and then he up and left. And, now, I mean, my mother and father and I were already fairly poor, it’s just how it is sometimes. Although, I didn’t always understand it as a child, but we were poor, you see?” You could tell you were rambling but for some reason you couldn’t stop.

“And when my father left my mother and I? Well we were wrecked. We had lost half of the earnings that our mismatched household made. So my mother took to some… well.. uh… bad habits in order to take away some of her pain, I guess? I don’t know, I don’t know at all. I try to understand and be compassionate and caring but just like she always told me, it’s hard.”

It was like verbal vomit, “I’m not compassionate, or caring, or nice, or kind, or smart, or pretty, or… or… _anything_ … and here I was living in her house, taking up space, being a general nuisance.” You swallowed thickly, not even noticing the tears in your eyes as you continued, “One of her bad habits was her tendency… to… to drink. She drank a lot. I mean, not a lot a lot. Just sometimes she’d drink too much. I mean, I guess nearly every night, but it’s okay, right? She had a hard life. And a hard childhood. She told me once, ‘I’m surprised I survived,’ her dad was a bad man… but… well, she didn’t need to be so mean all the time… did she?”

“So… anyway… uhm…” you were feeling embarrassed and ashamed. You felt the need to cover up your mother’s wrongdoings. You felt the need to say something good about her. You didn’t want him to judge her. You didn’t want him to judge you.

“she was an alcoholic?” He phrased it as a question, but it wasn’t a question. You nodded, but the guilt hit you in the gut and you quickly shook your head, “N-no. S-she wasn’t… she just… drank sometimes…”

You couldn’t figure out a way to explain it to him. To make him understand that she wasn’t all bad, it’s just that the bad parts are what had left the most impression on you. You didn’t want him to hate her, after all, you’d done much worse in your life than she ever had. 

And suddenly you collapsed. Your head was in your hands and your whole body was shaking. In a flash Sans was crouched beside you, the sheets of his bed wrinkling from his movement. He gently placed a hand on your back as your violently shook. Silent sobs wracked your body, but no tears fell from your welling eyes. You refused to cry. After all these years, you refused.

“frisk, did… did she hurt you?”

You gulped, unable to look him in the eye, and with a strained voice continued your story, “I don’t like being alive all of the time. I didn’t like being alive then, either. I always was confused though. Ten year olds shouldn’t want to die. And I mean, part of me didn’t want to die. Part of me wanted to just disappear. And disappearing was sort of like dying.”

One last deep breath, sure, there was so much more to the story of your past, and so much more you could say, but you couldn’t. They weren’t things you knew how to articulate, so instead you decided to talk about the mountain, “Humans were wary of the mountain. They said it’s a place where lots of children and adults alike had disappeared. Lots and lots. I… I thought maybe… I thought maybe it’d be… I th—“ He grabbed your arms, moving them from your scrunched up face.

“shhh, frisk, i don’t need to hear more… i… i’m sorry, i…” He swallowed, his soul was crying out for you, “i’m so sorry frisk.”

“Sans?” You whispered, it seemed like eternities had passed as silence hung over you. The two of you kneeling on his bed, him slowly stroking your hair while you clung to his white tee-shirt.

“yeah, kiddo?”

“I… I can finish this story now… I… I need to tell you…” Your voice was frail, your grip on his shirt was weak, your hold on your emotions even more fragile, but you knew you needed to tell someone. You needed to be able to trust someone. You needed to put your faith in someone and have them do the same to you, despite knowing everything about you.

In a slightly stronger, albeit hoarse voice, you mumbled out, “I don’t like to call my mother an alcoholic, because I’m sure someone, somewhere, drinks more than she does and is a real alcoholic. She just got sad a lot and would drink to make herself feel better, ‘cept it didn’t make her happy. It only made her bitter and angry. It wasn’t healthy, I know that, but it wasn’t her fault. She was just a sad person and didn’t know what to do about it.”

You were sitting straight up again now, hands pooled in your lap, eyes dull, but shoulders stiff and set back with determination. He was much more relaxed than before as he continued to lazily run his hands through your hair. It seemed like it helped calm you, and, as a bonus, he sheepishly admitted, it felt nice to him as well.

“I stayed with her until I just couldn’t.” He didn’t say anything. “I think I was twelve when I decided to give up on her. She wasn’t getting better, and, well, in reality, I was the one bringing her down. I was just a bitter reminder of her unhappy life. She couldn’t be happy while taking care of some…. _thing_ like me… A thing she didn’t even want.”

He wanted to grab you by your shoulders and shake you until you got some sense knocked into your skull. He hated that you, who’d only ever exhibited overwhelming amounts of kindness, would be able to talk about yourself in such a negative and hateful tone.

“So I left. The mountain was haunted, so said people, others said it was just the wilderness that made people disappear. I just… well, I figured anything was better than the hellhole I felt like I was in at that moment.” You sighed, remembering the tales you’d grown up hearing.

“I was so ready to disappear. So I climbed and climbed and climbed. I wasn’t sure what I was even looking for, but… well…” You looked up briefly, making eye contact, before staring pointedly at your lap once more. “I found so much more than I ever could have hoped for.”

He had so many things he wanted to ask you. He had so many things he wanted to do, too. He wanted to hurt your mother as she had seemed to hurt you, but he wouldn’t be so rash. It wasn’t his place. He couldn’t do anything about it. Sans just wanted you to be okay. He wanted to know if she had hurt you. He wanted to know why you wouldn’t just hate her like he so clearly was prepared to do. He wished you’d despise the woman. He wished you wouldn’t think about going back to her.

And he knew by the innocence in your eyes and the warmth in your soul that it was impossible for you to feel hate. Even anger, he figured, was something you didn’t feel often. He knew that you’d probably want to give her a second chance. He couldn’t stop you.

So instead of barraging your already tired-self with questions, he only placed a chaste kiss on the crown of your forehead and leaned back, his signature grin back in place.

You could only blink, a slight tinge of pink on your cheeks, before a smile worked its way onto your face.

“It… it’s not everything… that happened… but… right now… I think it’s enough.” He nodded in agreement. You laid down serenely on his bed. When he made to get up, you grabbed his hand and pulled him down beside you. He was warm. He was comfortable. He was probably just as exhausted as you were.

For you, it was a dreamless sleep, and for him, it was a peaceful night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15; in which Frisk has some fun with Papyrus. And later on tells Sans about their childhood. He is angry but tries not to show it.


	16. Definition of Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story<3\. Your comments always make me really happy. I really adore this pairing, and I hope I'm doing it justice. On a side note, if for any reason at all you want to contact me, this is my tumblr: http://chichiluffsyou.tumblr.com (just be aware that not all of it is Undertale-related)
> 
> Also, just a warning, there is quite a lot of cursing ahead.

Morning came and you felt yourself wishing it hadn’t. It’d be so easy to close your eyes and snuggle in the warmth beside you. There was an arm haphazardly thrown around your waist, you shifted slightly coming face to face with a… skeleton? Had you fallen asleep with Sans? You blinked, your mind feeling groggy and sluggish as you thought back to the night before.

You’d bared your soul out to him and then had fallen asleep? Typical, really.

It took you another second to come to the conclusion that for once in your short life you hadn’t woken up at all the entire night. Not even once. No nightmares, nor night terrors. No waking up screaming or choking back sobs or gasping for air like you’d just been drowned. No feeling the grip of someone’s hands around your throat nor feeling the sensation of your skin burning nor the sharp pain of broken bones. No old memories disturbed you.

For once in a long while you’d actually managed to sleep through the night, and it had been peaceful, too.

Carefully you sat up and extracted yourself from his grasp, he only stirred slightly, but fell back into a deeper sleep fairly quickly. Checking the time you cursed slightly, if you didn’t hurry you’d be late for breakfast with Toriel. You couldn’t miss your favorite meal with your favorite mom.

Before you could leave his room though you heard your name whispered. He was up and watching you, “frisk? i.. i have one last question.” He could guess what your answer would be, but he didn’t want to just assume. He knew how forgiving you were and he knew that you’d be constantly wondering whether or not you were making the right choice. He had to help you find closure.

“do you want to see your mother again?”

That wasn’t the question you had been expecting, if you were honest you’re were ready for some silly joke or pun, not something like this.

 _“I don’t… I don’t know…”_ you signed, your hands fumbling slightly. Self-consciously you placed a hand over your chest. He nodded in understanding then hurriedly got up, “how ‘bout we talk to tori about it?”

That seemed reasonable to you.

The two of you walked over, if she was surprised at seeing him with you she hid it. She’d probably bring it up later, but for now she only swept you into the house with a gentle hug and kiss on your forehead. It made you think of Sans’ sweet kiss last night. Your heart stuttered in its place. He could be so gentle and sweet and rash and angry and it only made you more confused.

You’d known for a while that you had a bit of a crush on him, but you never really acknowledged it. You figured it was just one of those things that’d sort itself out on its own—besides, you had more important things to worry about.

Breakfast was nice, for the most part at least, Toriel had finally gotten permission to start a school right here in this little village. There was even, apparently, some interest in a few human-families from neighboring towns. The plan was that she would hold a “board-meeting” of sorts and talk to the parents of the prospective students. You smiled at her earnest and hopeful face. She was so unbelievably ecstatic. It made your heart swell.

It wasn’t until breakfast was winding down and conversations topics were dwindling that Sans, having been silent the entire time, cleared his throat.

“hey tori, i know i’m such a _bonehead_ sometimes,” she gave an appreciative chuckle, “but i’ve got some things that, well, _tibia_ honest i’m not sure you’ll want to hear…” Her laugh was more hesitant now, the light in her eyes dimming.

Sans took a moment to glance at you, as though cueing you to speak up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sign, let alone actually say, anything. He sighed and continued, “i’ve had… a sort of interesting conversation with frisk about a certain someone…”

Recognition flashed in Toriel’s eyes, and she turned to you, you noticed another emotion pass by her face but it disappeared under a too cheery smile. She was trying so hard for your sake. “Ah! Have you found your… real mother, child?” You shrugged, it’d be a bit of a stretch to say you’d _found_ her, per se, but you had a pretty good guess on where she would be found.

You weren’t smiling, neither was Sans. You could have tried to dismiss the subject but a boney hand brushed across your thigh, making you glance his way once more. He gave you a small nod, his hand tightening around your knee before it retreated back to his own lap.

 _“I’d… like to visit her. I… want to see her again…”_ Toriel nodded solemnly, you couldn’t even guess what might be going through her head.

“Well, that… it is definitely sudden, my child, but we can go tomorrow, if you would like?” She turned toward Sans once more, barely concealing the sorrow that she was feeling, “Will you come with us to visit Frisk’s mother?”

“wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The drive into the city was not nearly as fun as it had been when you and Toriel went clothes shopping, in fact you could have sworn someone had died by the grim silence that settled over the car. Not even Sans could be bothered to try and ease the tension with any dumb jokes, though he had tried at first. Now, he just seemed lost in his own thoughts, and Toriel was focused so intensely on driving that you didn’t want to distract her by signing.

You counted the stores as you drove by them, you didn’t like this part of the city. It was grungy and made you feel vulnerable. Your mother had never been one to warn you to be safe, but your common sense had always told you this was not a place for children to be alone in.

You gestured silently at the tall apartment complex at the end of the block. It definitely wasn’t as neat and clean and inviting as Toriel’s home but it wasn’t in total disrepair. It was just a little… sad looking. She pulled into the curb and took a deep breath, but before she could speak you were up and out of the car and running into the building.

The person at the reception blinked, vague recognition in their eyes, but you ignored them and ignored the elevator, preferring to use the stairs. Your short legs could be surprisingly agile when you wanted them to be as you took two or three stairs at a time. You felt a weird sense of fear, the same kind you would have felt years ago as a child when you’d come home late from school. It was pure instinct driving you to sprint up the stairs and when you finally reached the fourth story you skidded into the hall. You were slower now, attempting to catch your breath as you counted the doors, _“401, 402, 403… 406…”_ you mumbled as you dragged your feet toward the next door.

For all the work you had put into mentally preparing yourself for this encounter you were not nearly ready enough. You barely knocked on the door when a lady walked out and directly into you. She seemed just as surprised, blinking down at you for a moment in irritation before… ah… there it was. She knelt down suddenly, her face right with yours and mouthed a simple, “Frisk?”

Toriel and Sans were witnessing what could be considered a “heart-wrenching” reunion. It baffled the short skeleton as he watched the mother gather you into a seemingly warm embrace. She seemed enthralled by your sudden reappearance into her life. They couldn’t hear what she was quietly whispering into your ear.

“Where on earth have you been, _child?_ ” Her hands were gripping far too tightly on your arms, they were beginning to hurt, but you didn’t dare move. You couldn’t smell a trace of alcohol on her, but the slight slur in her words made you hesitant all the same. You shrugged in response.

She didn’t like that, but didn’t become any more aggressive, only leaning forward to whisper, “I see you brought some little friends… Don’t let them get a bad impression now. You need to be mommy’s little sweet angel, right?”

You nodded, suddenly feeling like that frightened ten year old you’d been before. The one who cowered in your room at night, praying to a god who wasn’t listening that your mother would come home safely and not angry. The same little one who learned it was better not to cry because then she’d just “give you a reason to _really_ cry,” which usually just meant she’d slap you or yell or both or worse.

Toriel and Sans shambled up, Sans glancing at your pale face, trying to decipher the look in your eyes, while Toriel warily watched your mother.

“Hello, dear, I am Toriel, your child’s current guardian.” Your mother nodded and stood slowly, keeping one hand on your shoulder in a death-like grip. She wasn’t about to let go of you anytime soon. Though you could guess she probably wanted nothing more than to throw you out onto the streets.

“I thank you guys _so_ much for returning my little girl to me. It was _so_ kind. And I just don’t know what I’d _do_ without this _sweet little angel._ ” The smile on her face was fake. The words fell flatly from her lips and her trembling hand holding your shoulder tight betrayed her slight fear, or maybe it was anger. You couldn’t tell.

If Toriel and Sans were surprised, they didn’t show it, instead just followed your mother inside the small shabby apartment. It happened to be clean, which was a surprise in itself. Maybe she was doing better? You could hope, anyways.

“Do you want tea? I think I have coffee, too, if that’s preferred…” She questioned. You tried not to look appalled. This was unexpected entirely. She was trying to be a host?

Sans was confused. His gut told him something was seriously wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was. The home itself didn’t smell of alcohol like you suggested it would, and the woman herself only seemed to be friendly, if not a bit intense. But he could see the pallor of your face and the way your chin trembled slightly whenever she would bark an order at you.

Though she was the one offering the tea and coffee, it ended up being you who made and served it while “the adults,” her mother had said that, talked. You couldn’t hear very much of whatever their conversation was. You sort of wished you could, but the other half of you was glad you couldn’t.

Nearly everything in the kitchen was just as you’d left it all those years ago, so it wasn’t hard to set up a little serving tray with mugs and cups and a little bit of sugar in case anyone wanted sweetener.

Your mother had a smile on her face but her eyes were like ice as she watched you approach. You set the tray down and Toriel smiled and thanked you before taking her cup.

You signed a quick “your welcome” then sat with your own mug of tea. You glanced up in time to see your mother roll her eyes, “Still refusing to speak?” She turned to them, “I’m so sorry she’s so stubborn. I don’t get it. She’s got a working voice I don’t get why she doesn’t just use it, it’d be so much easier instead of making us all waste time learning… whatever that thing is that she does.”

“Besides,” she continued, not even acknowledging your slight flinch, nor Sans narrowed eyes. Toriel seemed to be the only one who was composed, “she used to take singing lessons, I even paid for them and all that, and she’d sing all the time, too. It makes no sense that she’d waste all of our time and money if she wasn’t going to do anything with it… honestly… kids sometimes…”

Toriel nodded, a bit taken aback by your mother’s bluntness, but you could tell she was trying to be agreeable.

You didn’t say anything for the rest of the short meeting. Your mother stood, then Toriel, but Sans didn’t move, he just sat and watched you. They shook hands, false smiles painting their faces.

“Frisk, my child, would you like to stay the night with your mother or come back home with me?” Toriel asked kindly, you stood, unsure of what to say, but before you could answer your mother interrupted, “I’d actually like to talk with Frisk alone, if you don’t mind.”

You minded. You minded a lot actually. She was only ever mean when she was alone with you. A red flag went up in your mind, but you squashed it down. You’d give her a chance.

Toriel and Sans exited quietly. You avoided their worried stares.

The silence hung, thick and deadly between you and your mother. You tried to put a smile on your face as you stared down at your scuffed shoes.

_“I’m sorry I left, mother.”_

The smack rang out hard and loud. Your face stung. You looked up and saw her tear-stained face.

“I was so fucking worried you piece of shit. But you know? A part of me? A part of me was so fucking relieved that I didn’t have to bother taking care of you anymore. How old are you now, anyway? 15? 16? Can’t you just leave me alone?” Her voice was quiet yet despite the softness you could feel each word cut slowly at you. Nothing could hide the vehemence in her words.

“I…” she sniffled, tears falling once more, you just stood frozen in a mixture of fear and sorrow. Guilt nagged at your insides. “I hate you so much but I love you and you fucking scared me to death. I thought I’d killed you.” She pushed you back, making you stumble.

“I thought you’d gotten kidnapped or stolen or some other bullshit. But then I saw your shitty little note. I was relieved. I was so fucking guilty for being relieved.” She emphasized it by pushing you again.

“And now you’re back? I know I should be over the moon. ‘My little girl is returned to me!’” she said in a mocking tone, “But instead I just feel angry. God, I wish your stupid grandmother hadn’t kicked the bucket. Maybe you could have just stayed with her…” She pushed you back and you fell, your head slamming against the end table. There were black spots in your vision but you blinked them away.

“If I was a good mother I’d be excited. But I was never much of a good mother, yeah? It’s why you left me all alone in the first place.” She frowned, “but now you’re back? What am I supposed to feel about that?”

You couldn’t breathe, your lungs had stopped working. It didn’t matter how much you open or closed your mouth, nothing was working. Sure, she’d said some mean things to you before, but nothing like this. And never when she was sober.

“You’re old enough to know better by now… why would you come back?” She fell to the ground. “Why would you come back? I thought I’d lost you. I knew I wasn’t meant to be a mother. I thought you were gone and it was scary and I was happy but I was also sad and… fuck you, you little selfish asshole. Fuck you for leaving me all alone.” You crawled forward, unsure of whether to hug her or to run. You wanted to do both. You wanted to have never come here at all.

“Why the fuck are you even here? You have a ‘mother’ out there who wants you! Or at least it certainly seems like she does. So why did you come back? I don’t want you!” You flinched and she noticed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Okay? I don’t want you and never did! I’m sorry I was such a fucking shitty parent!” The words were like knives. That wasn’t the apology you wanted. You hadn’t even wanted an apology. You just wanted her to… you wanted her to want you… You wanted to have been mistaken all those years ago despite the abuse. You wanted to have your mother’s love. She seemed to be able to love everyone and everything else. But all you were was a parasite. Something that fed off of her happiness to sustain itself. That’s all she would ever see you as. Maybe that’s all you were.

You mumbled, your voice cracking, _“I’m sorry, mommy.”_

“Oh, you’re fucking sorry? Yeah. That. Fixes. Everything.” Her closed fists pushed against you, accenting each angry word.

She raised her hand a final time, probably to slap you again. You only closed your eyes to accept the hit. Yet it never came.

“i wouldn’t do that if i were you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16; Frisk meets her mother again. There are... "mixed" feelings. It doesn't go well.


	17. Not Present

Sans sat beside you on the way back. Toriel hadn’t said anything about the bright red mark on your face, nor the dead look you had in your eyes. But there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. You guessed if it weren’t for the fact that you needed attention right now, she’d probably be in there… doing who knows what. Instead, she just drove. You were kind of surprised Sans hadn't done more, though, maybe he had, you didn't know for sure.

Your emotions were a mess. Part of you was in disbelief. Part of you was rejoicing. The rest of you was hurting. Gingerly you put a small hand up to the cheek that had been struck. Your hand was like ice, it was almost soothing to your throbbing face. You were right to leave all those years ago. You felt guilty, though.

Your stomach churned uncomfortably. She had been crying, like she’d actually missed you, her voice had cracked when she cried out the sorry’s. You weren’t even sure which part of the whole ordeal she was apologizing for. I’m-sorry-I’m-a-kind-of-not-great-mom? I’m-sorry-I’ll-never-win-mother-of-the-year?

She was only sorry because she felt it was the right thing to be. She only was worried about you because she knew that as your mother she was supposed to be concerned for your safety. You knew that to be true, but part of you still longed for it to be wrong.

You wanted to turn back around and hug her. You wanted to turn back around and beat her with your small fists like she beat you. You wanted to turn back around and scream and yell and beg and cry and release all the things you’d held inside for so long.

Somehow the whole escapade was incredibly freeing. Somehow it only made you feel more trapped.

You knew you would never have to go back. You knew that logically you never needed to feel guilty about leaving her again. You couldn’t help but wonder about what would have happened if you had never left in the first place, though.

You barely noticed that the car had stopped. Toriel unbuckled you from the backseat, Sans was holding your hand and trying to get your attention. Toriel picked you up, Sans released your hand. You were being carried. You didn’t exactly care, though. Nothing mattered right now. You just needed time to process things.

You needed time to think it over.

You needed time to overthink it over.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting staring at a wall. You weren’t sure when you’d even gotten into your room. Briefly you glanced down at your phone. It was six thirty pm. You had three new messages from Sans, but you hadn’t the energy to look at them right now. You couldn’t think about much else than the look in your mother’s face when she cried out her “I’m sorry’s”. How could she all at once look so sincerely regretful and hateful and sorry?

You stomach growled, you ignored it. You couldn’t face Toriel after the scene that had been caused.

Sans had saved you, you remembered that much. You also remember seeing Toriel’s horrified face in the doorway. Her eyes had glinted dangerously at your mother, it had made you shiver. You were glad you couldn’t see Sans face. You couldn’t even imagine the look that was probably on it… it was probably similar to the one he’d given you all those timelines ago when you’d murdered his brother.

You felt exhausted but you didn’t want to sleep. You felt hungry but you didn’t want to eat. You felt lonely but you didn’t want to be around anyone. You felt so much at once. You felt nothing at all.

It was nearly four in the morning when sleep found its way to you. You dreamed of your mother’s leering face. You dreamed of the timelines when you had stayed with her, you dreamed of the scars you’d created on your inner thighs and calves. You dreamed of your death happening again and again and again and again and…

You woke up in a cold sweat, your breathing harsh and heavy. A quick glance at your phone showed you had not only the three missed messages from Sans but also one text from Papyrus. It was six in the morning.

You set the phone down again and laid back staring at the ceiling. Sometime around seven Toriel came in briefly, but you didn’t ever stir and she left after dropping a slice of pie on your nightstand. She was doing her best to comfort you. You appreciated it. Or, at least, you figured you would once you figured out how to feel again.

You didn’t do much for the rest of the day. You just alternated between sleeping and nibbling on the slice of pie or whatever else Toriel occasionally came by to feed you. You didn’t shower despite feeling sweaty and gross. You didn’t get up despite feeling bloated and lazy. You wanted to do something to make yourself feel better but anytime you had managed to sit up… you only let yourself fall back.

You hadn’t responded to Sans nor had you bothered even looking at the messages.

The night came and went in a similar way to the previous one. Every single one of your dreams just ranged from one kind of hell to another. If it wasn’t Sans standing on your windpipe with a sadistic smile on his face then it was Toriel, anger in her eyes as she burned you, or it was your mother hitting you repeatedly with a broken lamp.

During the day you only thought about death, during the night you only dreamed of the ways you died. Another day passed.

You had two missed calls. You still didn’t bother to check them.

It was on the fourth day, after Toriel had already tried physically removing you from bed, that Sans appeared in person. And boy, you could have laughed at the anger on his face if it didn’t make your heart leap into your throat. He was angry and it only made you remember the hatred in his eyes when you played in the dust of his brother’s soul.

He must have sensed your fear because his expression changed quickly. It was a smile of sorts, although he really just looked uncomfortable if anything. His mouth was grimacing, his white glowing pupils that were normally so warm and bright were the smallest and dullest pinpricks you’d ever seen. He seemed to be sweating.

“hey kiddo. tori tells me you’ve taken an unannounced sabbatical from life…” he drawled, “the thing is, and while i’m a huge supporter of doing nothing, you can’t just waste away in here.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. You were pretty sure if you tried hard enough you could live the rest of your life without ever leaving the covers of your bed. It wasn’t a good enough answer for him, apparently.

“no, kiddo, i may be worthless enough to sit and do nothing, but _you_ are so much more than that.” His voice was thin and soft, the deep tremors of it soothing your frazzled soul. “you are worth so much more… so much more than you will ever realize.”

It took you by surprise, but you could only shake your head in response. That only seemed to frustrate him, though.

“look, kid.” He moved over and sat beside you, the bed shifted slightly from his weight. You stopped yourself from tumbling into him. “i… i was scared i’d lose you to her. a part of me is relieved that you’re here right now, even though you’re hurting…” He moved closer, his head aimed toward his lap, and grabbed one of your hands.

“you… frisk… i wanted to tell you so many times… but it’s not the right time, it still isn’t, but it’s hard sometimes holding this to myself,” he was rambling, you’d never seen him quite so nervous before. Not him—he was always so calm and collected and suave and funny.

“frisk, i really am sorry.” He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t bring himself to. “but it’s okay, you… you’re so strong and so… your soul is beautiful and you’re… frisk, i want you to be okay…” He couldn’t look at you anymore. His face darted down, you could have sworn he was blushing, but you didn’t say a thing about it.

You found your eyes welling up with tears and your heart thudded in your ears. Suddenly all the emotions that had been so numb before then had crashed down upon you. You threw yourself into him and he tumbled backward, laying with his back to your bed. You sobbed into his shirt. Never before had you cried in front of him. Never before had you let yourself cry quite like this.

And the whole time he held you tight.

You could have stayed like that for an eternity, but you knew eventually you had to go talk to Toriel. Like, really, talk. Not just the “oh I’m fine” bullshit that you’d been putting on her for as long as you’d been staying with her. But you had to talk about what had happened and what was wrong and all sorts of things you’d sort of been hoping never to deal with again.

For now though? You didn’t mind just clinging to Sans. He stroked through your tangled and matted hair. Absentmindedly you wondered if maybe you needed to shower or do anything that was the least productive.

“frisk, you… you’re a special… you’re… you’re really special to everyone, k? you’re such a _numbskull_ …” Anything else he might have said was interrupted when Toriel slowly opened the door. She looked some mix of wary and worried, but her eyes were lit with relief when she saw you up and present for once.

“ _Mom_ ,” you whispered.

It wasn’t as hard this time. Well, that’s not true, it was almost twice as hard, and maybe you didn’t talk the whole time, you mostly signed it, but at least you did it, right? Sans was beside you the entire time, his arm around your shoulder, which you were sure Toriel noticed with disapproval, there would be so many words from her later, but regardless of all the irrelevant and distracting thoughts bouncing around your head, you managed to get the past laid out for Toriel to understand.

She was silent for most of it, aside from the occasional “oh, my child…” And by the end of it she was crying. She scooped you into her arms like you weighed nothing yet she held you like you were the most important being in the world. Like she’d be lost without you. You buried your tearstained face into her shoulder and breathed in her warm scent. She smelled lightly of cinnamon, of butterscotch, of fire, of warmth and happiness and sweetness and safety. Her earthly smell calmed you and she held you until your breathing evened out and your shaking stopped.

She wasn’t your mother, but she was better than anything you could have ever asked for. She was so much more than your mother. She was everything you needed and more. And based on the way she clutched you to her chest, well, she needed you too.

When you turned your head to look at Sans, you blinked in disappointment. He was gone.

_Respect was not and never would be the same thing as fear. He wanted you to respect him, because he respected you a great deal, but as for your mother? He wanted her to tremble in fear at the very mention of his name._

_When he sensed you in danger he had tried to push his way back into the room first thing, Toriel had grabbed his shoulder though, not sensing it like he could. The second time he felt his soul tug toward you, he let himself teleport, Toriel couldn’t stop him then. He was sure glad he did as he grabbed your mother’s swinging arm._

_His voice was venom. His eye sockets empty. Yet somehow the blackness held a hatred that was unfathomable. Your mother shuddered. Toriel retrieved you quickly and left. You had your eyes closed, still, unable to see what was happening. Sans didn’t leave immediately._

_He smiled wickedly at the mother, his head tilting to the side as though he was trying to clear out his nonexistent ears._

**_“Never touch Frisk again.”_ ** _his voice was deep and powerful, his hand tightened on her wrist. It took all of his self-control not to just snap the bone. But the thought of your innocent and fearful face stilled his impulse to hurt._

_The mother didn’t blink or move or say anything. The fear in her eyes was incredibly satisfying. His grin turned manic, his eyes were still just as empty as he currently felt his soul was. He couldn’t help but laugh at the petrified woman before him._

_He’d almost say she was beautiful, he could see where you got your looks from, but that was where the similarities ended. If you wouldn’t hate this putrid person in front of him, well, he sure as hell didn’t mind doing it for you. After all, he had enough a hate in him for a lifetime._

_Again he had to resist the urge to hurt her. He knew, he just knew, you’d never forgive him. Although he didn’t understand why, he did want to respect your choices._

_So instead he settled for scaring the now quivering mess of a woman._

_His eye flashed a dark blue and slowly he lifted the woman into the air. Her face was contorted in a mix of shock and fear and surprise. He let his magic fade out and she thumped onto the floor. He started to leave, but upon hearing your mother begin to cry in earnest he turned once, his smile unnervingly bright, “if you keep going the way you are right now...”_

**_“Y o u ‘ r e g o n n a h a v e a b a d t i m e.”_ **

_That night he sent you a text. You didn’t respond, frustrated, he sent another, trying to see if you were okay. You didn’t respond. He sent one last one. Again, no response. The next day he called. No response. He didn’t find this particularly funny. Third day of radio silence and he called again, this time leaving a voicemail. You didn’t answer. He wasn’t happy. The fourth day was when Toriel called him. He came over before she could even hang up._

_Yet all the anger he had built up dissipated the moment he saw your face. You looked like porcelain, like you might break at the slightest touch. His soul melted. He wanted to crush you into a hug, but instead he maintained distance until it was suddenly you on top of him and crying and he’d never heard this from you before and he was at a loss at what to do and maybe he was panicking a little bit, and sure, he had been rambling a bit before this, feelings were a messy business after all, but he also sort of liked you trusting him. He liked the warmth that came off of you in waves and he liked the texture of your hair, even though it was tangled and maybe a little dirty right now. And maybe if he’d had a heart it’d be bursting from all the affection he felt for you. Hell, you had him wrapped around your pinky finger and he, the he who was normally so apathetic toward life, couldn’t help but be swept up by the love and care and tenderness you showed to everyone and everything. Even things like him who didn’t deserve it._

_But instead of saying this, he stayed quiet and just listened to the sound of yours sobs. He listened to your ragged breathing and felt your heart beating wildly on his ribcage._

He blinked, opening his eyes back to his home, he’d probably get hell from you later for just up and leaving you in the middle of what he supposed was to be a heartwarming reunion between friends and family, but, well, he was exhausted. After all, he’d spent the last four days worrying himself silly over you.

He felt like quite the mess.

Toriel hadn’t let you out of her sight the rest of the night, which was almost a relief because you weren’t sure you even trusted yourself to be alone. The two of you talked more about her school, which was a nice contrast to the heavy topics that had been discussed previously, and she brought up the fact that she wanted you to enroll. She asked it like a question, you smiled, it was an obvious yes.

You didn’t sleep well that night, but it was better than it had been. You were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17; Frisk is not okay. Sans is not okay. They will eventually be okay.


	18. Catch Your Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know we've had a lot of things happen in the past few chapters. But now we're having a bit of a time-skip and a lot of exposition. We'll get back into the thick of the story next chapter, I promise. For now, have some what-frisk's-life-has-been-like-for-the-past-year-ish.
> 
> Also as a warning, references to self-harm are coming.

You ever get that sense of being overwhelmed but you know you shouldn’t be? Because it feels like everything is happening at once, but you know that logically nothing is really happening? And that there is really only one deadline that you actually have to meet and the rest can be completed at your leisure? Yet for some reason? You’re panicking in your room at night with papers covering your floor and a pencil tucked above your ear and the paper in your hand doesn’t make sense but you know you need to read it because you’re running out of time but it doesn’t make any god damn sense!?

Ever since the incident with your mother and after your little breakdown you had needed to return to the responsibilities of being an actual person once more. Which meant you needed to take your job seriously. And not only that, but you needed to be social and do schoolwork and all sorts of things that for the past four or five years had fallen below standard. You had to do things that before you hadn’t even thought about.

Toriel had started helping you catch up by homeschooling you a lot, Sans would help with your math homework, though he refused to help with sciences. For that you had to ask Alphys, but it was never super-efficient to get help from her because she’d get distracted by one thing or another and start talking to you about a cute or silly or cool anime she saw the other day and suddenly you’d be wrapped up in the discussion instead of balancing your chemical equations.

There was also discussion of you going abroad, which was frightening in itself, but also, it felt like a new adventure, right?

It was still a scary thought, but Toriel assured you no action would be taken until the summer at the least. Plus, there were enough things you could take care of while here. You figured that eventually you wouldn’t mind going abroad though, it’d help further the relations with other countries and probably would lend a hand in easing the relocation of various monsters. Frankly, the winter monsters couldn’t stay here, it was too hot, and the aquatic ones? Well of course they wanted to be by the sea!

The summer had come and gone but you had stayed.

Being an ambassador was tough. You weren’t even sure what all it entailed. Sometimes you thought you were doing more than what the role of ambassador required. But if not you, then who? Sometimes you thought you weren’t doing enough.

It was a slow going process. The whole thing was and it was frustrating and all of these things are what had wound up leaving you up at three in the morning hyperventilating over the impossibility of the tasks which you had to complete.

Toriel had left a cup of your favorite golden flower tea by your nightstand, it had long gone cold but you still knocked it back. If you had done your calculations correctly you’d be finished in time for a three hour “power-nap” of sorts and should have just enough energy to get through tomorrow’s conference.

It was more a press-coverage meeting than anything official, or something that would get work done directly… but that was the point, it was supposed to boost the representation of monsters in society and show that they, too, are people worthy of rights. It was supposed to do the work indirectly, or at least that’s what Mettaton told you when he suggested it. You figured that maybe he just wanted the publicity for himself and his new talk show.

A fifteen year old, although almost sixteen, was probably still too young to be attempting to peacefully acclimate two entirely different cultures to each other, but you’d freed all the monsters from what sounded like eons of imprisonment at that age, and truth be told, that was no walk in the park.

And this job? Well it didn’t have anyone throwing spears at you, so it was significantly less dangerous.

The meeting went by. The next and the next. Time was flying by and you weren’t able to slow it down. Sans had taken you on a few more definitely-not-dates-but-they-sure-felt-like-dates until it was nearing your sixteenth birthday and Toriel had said you were caught up enough in school to join the actual class and your friends had started finding jobs and everything was moving along and you were filled with emotions that you didn’t know how to name. He disappeared for a few weeks. It had upset you, but you’d been so busy with school you never got the time to confront him on it.

He always was around when you needed him, in any case. You just hoped he wasn’t purposefully avoiding you.

School was a different kind of beast altogether and you weren’t entirely sure on how to tame it. Naturally, you went to Toriel’s school, though, much to your dismay, you were not placed in her class. She worked as a principal in her spare time and Asgore helped as well with the more “superintendent” side of things. It was kind of a cute pairing. The two of them working together was a refreshing sight. You were honestly glad that Asgore and Toriel had remained friends.

You’d offered to help them with school stuff several times. They never let you.

Monsters went to your school with you and you made friends readily with most of them, having met many of their parents in your time in the Underground. You did discover, however, that there were so many different kinds of monsters that you’d never met before. Surprisingly enough, humans also attended—which was awesome.

If not a little weird.

You didn’t always get along perfectly with them. Some of the children were happy to be placed amongst monsters and would fire hundreds of questions at you daily. That was more toward the beginning of the school year, but once they realized you never had much to say, they mostly left you alone. There were other children though, the ones with zealous monster-loving parents who had forced them into a mostly-monster school in order to become “cultured” or something like that… well, those children weren’t always so happy to go along with their parent’s ideas. In fact, quite a few of them were bitter. Quite a few of them blamed you.

There’d been a few incidents of name calling or slight pushing in the halls, but it was never obvious and it never escalated. You never called anyone out—from what you remember of Sans’ reaction to the last time you told him that someone was bullying you… ah, well, they couldn’t even look you in the eye without shivering in fear. You never did ask what he did. He probably wouldn’t have answered.

You still spent a lot of nights at Sans’ house, sometimes you’d make excuses not to leave until it was too late for you to go anyways so you needed to stay the night, and oh no, what a shame that you’d have to stay over at your best friend’s house, the same friend-that-you-may-have-had-a-slight-crush-on-for-only-like-two-years-or-something. Toriel had only mentioned it once or twice, just the usual “now, Frisk, are you okay?” or “what’s the deal with Sans and you?” and every time you brushed it off.

Because. Well. You had no idea. It was like dating except you weren’t. Not that you really knew much about dating in general anyway. You’d… never actually gone on a real date. Though, sometimes you thought Monster Kid was going to ask you out. He often cornered you before you left class after school, but he never ever got up the courage to actually say anything or ask anything and you always left a little disappointed.

It would have been nice to go on a date…

Well, you wanted to go on a date with a certain other person, but you—just like MK—never had the nerve to ask. You were quite _spineless_ when it came to the idea of… actually talking about your… feelings…

Time was running and running and running and it was hard to keep up. College? The concept had been foreign to you, and now you were nearing seventeen and you had to apply and write essays and do all sorts of things you’d never done before? What on earth was this?

You didn’t even know what you wanted to do with your life, and while Toriel assured you that you could be accepted anywhere, because after all you’ve been working in politics since you were fifteen and freeing monsters from being trapped was no small feat either. But there was worry in the air and it wrapped itself around you so thickly and tightly that you couldn’t do a thing about it.

Christmas was coming. There was snow out. It was dark. School was on break. Your job wasn’t, but life had slowed down for once. For once in a very long time you actually had the opportunity to take a breather.

MK had called you the other day, he was nervous, you talked to him politely like always. He finally asked you on a date.

You told Toriel first thing. She was excited, but mostly just overprotective. Asgore sputtered in disbelief then growled in his over-protective manner. Alphys and Undyne? They were thrilled. But they mostly just teased you endlessly. Papyrus had all sort of advice for you.

Sans? Well Sans didn’t say a thing other than “good luck, kiddo”. Except he didn’t wear his normal grin, it seemed strained somehow. Briefly you wondered if perhaps he’d not been sleeping well. You hadn’t hung out with him in over two weeks so you weren’t really sure how he was doing.

You knew he woke up in the night from memories almost as often as you did.

It turned out that MK could be actually somewhat suave if he wanted. And apparently. He wanted. He was dressed up a little, long gone were his days of wearing stripped sweaters, but instead he was in a more modern fashion. He’d probably picked it up from the humans. You’d decided on a floral dress that ended around your knees.

You liked dresses, they were freeing in some ways. You also liked jeans and baggy shirts, but Toriel had forbid that you leave in such a casual outfit. So. Naturally. A dress was the easiest choice. It required very little planning.

“Y-you look nice, Frisk.” His yellow scales were tinted red, it reminded you of how Alphys was around Undyne. The thought made your heart squeeze. You could make someone blush just by your appearance? It made you feel special, if only for just a moment, before your doubts came swarming back.

 _“Thank you, MK. What is the plan?”_ you signed, a warm smile lighting up your face.

You and MK had actually spent quite a lot of time together. Always as friends though, always just friends. Though, not that there hadn’t been speculation about your relationship before—people always asked if you were a couple. He never knew how to answer so you’d always just shake your head with a wry smile.

You’d been teaching him sign language, and though he couldn’t, for obvious reasons, sign, he was super grateful and an avid learner. In fact, he could keep up with the long rants you’d go on about the difficulty of calculus and how “it was very unfair that I got marked down for that answer!” It was very kind of him to learn the language that made you most comfortable. The longer you knew him the more you realized that he was just a kind person in general. And though you knew you loved him. You knew you didn’t _love_ him the way you felt you _loved_ that certain someone else.

But the date turned out to be fun. It wasn’t what you expected, but it was nice. It was sweet.

Your heart didn’t flutter when he placed a timid kiss on your cheek though. It didn’t feel like much of anything, but you could see his blushing and nervously flustered face, so you only smiled kindly and thanked him for the nice date. He left and you went inside your home and sat on the couch.

You looked stunned on the outside, yet inside you were only thinking of what it might be like to have gone on that same date with _him._

But he would never want that.

You knew that.

But you could hope, right?

You sent him a quick text. He didn’t respond right away. He didn’t respond for an entire hour, and by that time, you’d showered and you were in the process of climbing under your covers.

A simple _“hey?”_ was all he had sent. Your brows furrowed. You’d sent him such a nice little text saying hi and asking about his day and all sorts of things… and you get back… a “hey?”

Maybe he was mad at you?

You weren’t sure what he’d even be mad about.

So you asked.

He said no.

You huffed and asked what was wrong.

He said nothing.

You sighed and set the phone down. It was no use trying to coax an answer from him. If he didn’t want to say, well, he never would. Toriel stepped in, disrupting your thoughts, a wide smile on her face. She briefly asked about your little date then kissed the top of your head. She turned the lights off as she left.

You woke with the feeling of hands around your neck. But when you opened your eyes there was no one there. You were choking and gasping for air. Your hands were trembling and there were tears in your eyes. It’d been nearly a month since your last dream like that. A dream so real that you could have sworn it was actually happening.

The whole thing put you off.

You sat up in bed and just tried to breathe deeply. In and out and in and out and in and out. What was it Sans had said about grounding yourself? You swung your legs off the bed, trying to place them flat on the floor. You were still a bit too short to reach the floor from your bed so easily, but you did your best. You placed a hand on each knee and began to count. “In… two… three… out… two… three…”

It felt silly. But it helped some. But it wasn’t helping enough. You could feel yourself going numb.

There were days--you’d noticed they’d gotten worse since the whole fiasco involving that woman you’d once considered a mother—that you disassociated from the world. It would hit you suddenly and you’d look around as though in a dream. It’d be hard for you to breath, or that’s what it felt like. You’d be barely aware of your body’s processes. They were no longer in your control, anyways.

And always everything felt so sluggish. It felt like you were watching yourself from a television or that you were trapped within your mind unable to really see out except for the little glimpses you caught occasionally, and even these sneak peeks didn’t feel real.

It was such a hard thing for you to explain, and Toriel had caught you once in one of these episodes and when she finally startled you out of your daze and asked you what was wrong… you couldn’t find the proper words to explain it.

But you’d tried.

It was like the room you existed in was the real room. Like everything else wasn’t real because it didn’t exist yet, but the moment you would walk into the next room it’d solidify and the fog would disappear or move from your path. Sometimes it felt like you were in a box.

You always felt so numb when you were like that. When you were disassociating.

You didn’t like being numb.

And one day when you’d been in that… “zombified” state… you’d discovered an unhappy quick-fix.

It quickly became an addiction of sorts.

You never used knives. Those made you uncomfortable. But scissors were always within easy grasp and Toriel never questioned why you had them in the first place, after all, you liked to scrapbook.

But a year of pressing those scissors leaves marks on the skin. Sometimes those marks don’t fade. You usually attacked your inner thigh, not wanting it to be noticeable, but if you were having a rough day you’d trail down a bit.

It wasn’t good, you knew that, but it helped you feel something.

Plus, sometimes a bitter part of you would yelp out whenever you felt guilty about the cuts that… your friends who worried about you? Well, they’d cut you before too, so what was the big deal?

You knew it wasn’t healthy. You didn’t stop though.

And when you woke up in that cold sweat? It was the first thing on your mind. You weren’t careful with it, either.

In the morning your calves sported thin red lines and you dug in your closet for a pair of long leggings to hide the marks.

It was easier for them not to know of your problem, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18; Time-jump, Frisk is 16, will be 17/18 by next chapter. Frisk has a small date. Sans seems off. Frisk picked up a bad habit.
> 
> And on a side note, just a sort of "for the record" thing, the disassociation thing is often a symptom of depression or anxiety, it's something I experience as a part of having anxiety, so I wrote a lot of it from my personal experiences. It's a sensation that's hard to explain. So if you didn't understand exactly what they're experiencing...
> 
> You ever played the Sims? Imagine if you created yourself in the Sims and you're making yourself do all the things you'd normally do. It's you, right? But it's not you, and it doesn't feel like you. And that's kind of what the feeling is like in a way.


	19. Dating Start!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: "Fuck you, Sansta."
> 
> (This is mostly fluff, little bit of filler, and more of a timeskip; short chapter/// sorry friends///)

You’d been asked on a date.

Like an actual real live date.

And no, it wasn’t MK. Nor was it one of your friends giving you a pity date. It was an actual real live human who happened to not go to your school and who happened to be friends with one of your sort-of-friends.

It was two days until Christmas. There were lights and decorations galore and the snow was coming down in fat, thick flakes. You were filled with a sense of ease as you sat on the lumpy couch, a mug of hot chocolate held tightly between your small hands.

It’d been disappointing to go to the doctor’s and discover that you hadn’t grown an inch. You were eighteen now.

Like.

Actually eighteen.

You’d been above ground for three whole years and you’d been working hard at your job and in school. You had accomplished so much… yet… your dumb body couldn’t at least grow just one centimeter taller? Were you cursed to be forever short?

Ah well, sometimes you couldn't get everything you wished for.

Sans was beside you when you got the text, your phone chirping twice. He looked startled upon hearing your ringer go off, as though he was shocked someone besides him would actually spend time texting you. You tried not to be offended.

Though. Really. You were kind of surprised too.

“you gonna get that?” His smile was bright and his eyes brighter.

You actually hadn’t been planning on it at all. Your sense of common courtesy told you it was always rude to text while with someone else. But something about his tone—was there a twinge of jealousy in it?—made you suddenly curious.

You checked the screen and saw the number was unknown.

The text itself was fairly short, _“Hey, I’m Alex, Melissa’s friend. We met before?”_ Sans was staring at it over your shoulder. You began to type back a quick, _“Yeah, I’m Frisk, whatcha need?”_

Before you could press send, his bony hand swiped forward and snatched the phone from your grasp. With an indignant squeal you lunged toward him. He was still bigger than you, and obviously stronger.

It wasn’t hard for him to keep you out of your phone’s reach while he texted deftly with his other hand. He was sweating slightly, though it wasn’t hot, and on the inside he was quite unhappy. Though, he had to admit, it was kind of endearing how hard you were struggling to get your precious little phone back.

“score, kiddo.” With a smirk he handed it back. You felt a sort of cold dread while you read over the text which quickly turned into confusion.

Absentmindedly, you asked, _“Did… did you just get me a date?”_ as you reread through the short series of texts once again.

It was baffling. Sans had gotten you a date? What on earth? Why?

He wasn’t quite sure himself.

You had yourself a date, though, but you weren’t entirely happy at the prospect. A part of you was over the moon—how could you not be? You were flattered that someone who had met you… like… twice would think you were interesting enough to go out with you just as friends, but then, having romantic implications included in the hang out? It was mind boggling.

The other half of you however was a bit let down. If Sans had so readily “scored” you a date, as he said, didn’t that mean that he only thought of you as a friend? Boy. It was a blow to your already low self-esteem. It’s one thing to have a friend help you get a date. It’s another thing entirely to have your crush help you get a date.

It was like getting rejected without even confessing.

The mall was busy this time of year. A day before Christmas but as always it seemed no one had completed their Christmas shopping on time. You kind of enjoyed standing by the doors and just watching the crowd move around you. You’d watch one harried looking mother enter a store with one bad and leave with three more, or a father drag along a rather impatient looking child, or see some store clerk with a less-than-pleased look on their face as they called out to the passing crowds “hey, Christmas deals, here!”

It would have been overwhelming, but you could enjoy standing on the edge and just watching it happen rather than being in the thick of things.

“Hi, Frisk.” You startled slightly but looked up quickly with a smile.

He was tall. Taller than Sans. Shorter than Papyrus. He had dirty blonde hair. It semi covered his eyes. You immediately pictured the whole “boy-band” image and tried not to scoff.

He wasn’t unattractive by any means. But. Well. Your standards were obviously a bit off considering you had a thing for an actual, literal, live skeleton.

He seemed nervous if anything. You were nervous too, though. He offered his arm and you took it.

This was weird already.

It wasn’t cute and easy and comforting like your date with MK, and it wasn’t like hanging out with Sans or Papyrus where you felt immediately warm and happy. It wasn’t like being with Undyne or Alphys, where despite you being a major third wheel you still felt welcomed and comfortable.

But this? You felt like there was a trick somewhere.

Maybe it was because you were used to being around monsters. Even most of the friends you had that were your age? They were monsters.

Melissa? She was a girl you’d hung out with twice, both times she’d brought her other friends and both times you’d been too shy to do much.

She was nice though. Her great grandparents happened to be deaf. So she knew basic sign language. She usually translated for you.

Her gift for your birthday had been a small whiteboard. You’d tried not to be offended, though it felt a little rude. But it had come in handy a few times, so you didn’t fault the gift giver nor the gift.

Alex. That was his name, right? You didn’t talk much, but you didn’t need to. He was mostly rambling about everything under the sun. The two of you sat at a booth inside one of the small cafés in the food court. It was one you’d gone to quite a few times with Sans on your dates-that-were-totally-not-dates-but-god-damn-you-wished-they-were.

He’d started with the less personal questions, like asking about school and jobs and the like. It was fine to talk about these things, they didn’t bother you so much, though sometimes the idea of needing to figure out your future was a bit stressing.

He seemed to understand though. And when he admitted to being at a loss of what to do as a career you felt a bit relieved.

The longer you sat at the diner, the easier it was to talk to him.

But then he was asking you about the monsters and your stomach squirmed in discomfort, you didn’t like this.

“What was it like to live down there?” It was a question you’d heard a thousand times. You shrugged in response.

“Okay… well, I mean, like, weren’t you scared? The monsters… they’re kind of freaky, right? Did any of them try to eat you?”

Eat you? What? You weren’t sure where that idea had come from. You didn’t want to bother.

You shook your head. You wrote on the whiteboard that you’d begrudgingly brought with you, _“They were nice.”_ You didn’t bring up the flower. Nor the fact that they’d actually killed you a few times.

He didn’t look like he believed you, “Naw, come on, I want some truth! You were like… a little kid, right? Friiisk,” he practically sang your name. It put you on edge.

You just sipped your water.

“Did they ever… like, I dunno… God I couldn’t imagine living with those _things._ You’re so impressive, I bet your life is crazy cool.”

Ah, now you understood.

He wasn’t _trying_ to be a tool, he just _was_ a tool.

He’d probably heard from any number of his friends the watered-down version of the story of your life with the monsters, as most people had by this point, and only felt sympathy for you, a small helpless human, who had lived with the monsters, scary and vile and… oh my… _different_ creatures. He probably hadn’t even talked to a monster before.

There were people like this all over. Some of them figured if they just pretended the monsters didn’t exist they’d go away.

It didn’t work.

And though you understand it was just him being ignorant and honestly, you’d dealt with people a lot worse than him. Yet you still couldn’t help but silently fume.

When you didn’t say anything he looked apologetic rather than smug. He reached a hand across the table toward yours which was clamped around your water. He let it rest on top of yours before speaking, “Hey, I’m sorry.”

Now you were really confused.

“I guess it was a little dumb of me to say that shit… I know nothing about them, right?”

You felt like you were getting played.

“I’ve actually never met one.”

Well, you had figured that much out.

“But if you’re such a nice person and you’re friends with them… well, they can’t be that bad, right?”

You shrugged.

“Hey, you wanna go for a walk?”

You nodded.

The topics became deeper than what they had been. It was so interesting to talk to someone with such different experiences than you. He talked a lot of his life and his family, which, for the record, he got along with fairly well. You tried to swallow your jealousy and when he, in turn, asked about your family you quickly changed topics.

Though maybe the beginning of the date had been a little rough, it was now turning into something pretty fun.

He was just someone who was genuinely curious about monster kind. Genuinely curious about you. You couldn’t sense any malicious intent from him, and you soon found yourself giggling at the occasional jokes he would crack inbetween stories.

He may not have been as smooth as Sans, yet, you found yourself enjoying his company all the same.

It was getting dark by the time you’d walked back to your neighborhood. On your request, he was taking you to Sans’ house since you had plans to spend the night. At some point, on your walk, the two of you had started holding hands. It made your stomach do flips to see that bashful grin on his face.

Maybe it was just the attention getting to your head, after all, you weren’t used to it from people your own age. You weren’t used to someone just wanted to know about you and your life.

It was… kind of nice.

The two of you stood at the front door of the skeleton brother’s house. He was staring down at you, an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t recognize, and you just blinked up at him, curious what he was thinking.

He leaned down.

You were maybe slightly panicked.

His lips were going to brush yours.

You closed your eyes.

The door opened.

The door fucking opened and Sans was there and you jumped back in surprise.

And fuck he was going to kiss you but Sans ruined it. He ruined your first real kiss. Alex just coughed awkwardly and gave you a quick hug and hurried off, seeming nervous about the sudden and inexplicable presence of the skeleton. You’d forgotten to warn him that you basically only had monsters for friends.

Though really. He should have had that figured out.

But that wasn’t important. You brushed your hand to your lips and frowned. Sans was in the doorway, you hadn’t even looked at him yet.

You turned, he had a red santa hat on and one of those tacky Christmas sweaters that people seemed to love so much. His eyes were wide and round. He was trying to act as though he didn’t know what he’d just interrupted, but the little telltale twitch of his nonexistent lips gave it away. He was trying so hard not to laugh.

It made your face go red.

 “Fuck You, _Sansta_.”

You stormed into the house, your face steaming and bright.

“maybe later,” he called to your retreating frame.

You didn’t even bother to dignify him with a response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 19; Frisk has a date. wowie.


	20. Frisked Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this planned out so well but it kind of fell apart when I started to write it. After writing it about five different ways, here's what you have. I'm sorry//

You should be proud of yourself. Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Toriel, Asgore, MK? They should all be proud of you, too.

You couldn’t care less whether or not Sans was proud of you.

That wasn’t true at all, but you liked to pretend, yeah?

You’d been so active today. You’d talked to new people. Or mostly just a few new people. (Just Alex, really.) You’d gone out and done things. (Just with Alex, to be honest.) You’d been in the public eye. (If Alex counted as “the public eye”.) You’d been a people’s person… (kind of). All in all, you’d count it as having been productive.

Alright, so maybe you were exaggerating. But, well, it felt like a lot had happened today, even if it really hadn’t.

And regardless of whether a lot happened or only a little, you were just so tired now. It was like your battery had run itself out. You felt mentally exhausted and in need of an indefinitely long nap.

You couldn’t help but hold some bitter disappointment, after all, you were a little frustrated at how the date ended. You were also a little peeved that Sans, the culprit for getting you that dumb date in the first place, had also been the one to give it such an awkward end. He’d probably ruined it, assuming you hadn’t with your bulky, blundering, clumsy, inelegant self.

Sans was so confusing, because despite the fact that he spent most of his time being either indifferent or teasing… he also had those rare moments where he was just kind. He took time to notice small details and pay attention to the little things about you. Sometimes you’d catch him, during movie nights for example, watching you with an indescribable expression on his face. He’d stay up late in the night comforting you when you had terrors and nightmares. But he’d poke fun and tease you any chance he got. He acted so apathetic some days yet other days he was so caring. It was frustrating and confusing and a mess.

You felt like he was just toying with you. It wasn’t fair.

Sans had sat you on his bed. He looked ready to say something but was interrupted by a rather frantic and loud yell from Papyrus. He muttered a quick “’scuse me,” before darting out of the room. With Papyrus, it could be something really important or really trivial, but you knew it’d probably take a while.

At least you had time to think. You kicked your feet against the carpeted floor and frowned.

The sheets were soft against your legs but you barely felt them. The dress you’d worn today had ridden up some and you casually traced a few of the marks on your legs—the freckles, dots, lines, and blemishes. You trailed your index finger over the thin white scars that had been formed over the last year. Sometimes your skin scarred, but sometimes there wouldn’t even be scabs to show the injuries. You figured if you gave those scars some time, they’d fade. At least, it’s what you hoped.

You still felt so tired.

But you didn’t feel like moving, not even just to lay down. So instead, you sat, legs dangling off the bed, facing toward Sans’ odd little trash tornado. It seemed emptier than usual, you noted.

It wasn’t very interesting.

As you sat alone, doubts began to pop idly into your head. You were beginning to remember the awkward moments of your date. Had it actually gone as well as you’d thought? Did he even have fun with you?

He hadn’t texted you… though you’d literally  been with him just twenty minutes ago, so perhaps expecting a text was a little much.

You didn’t know.

You weren’t exactly experienced in the dating game.

You weren’t sure you even wanted to go on another date with Alex in any case. Not that it had been boring or anything. You’d had fun. It was fun… But did you want to date Alex? You weren’t so sure.

Which brought you to thinking about Sans and how he always seemed able to make your heart pound and hurt all at once. He gave you nightmares, terrors, anxiety, and pain, but something about him just… made you unable to be… without him. He understood everything you’d been through, he even remembered most of it.

There was no one else like him.

 But to him, you were just some kid, even if you were technically an adult and about to leap off into the unknown and head to college or university or do any of the things you’d been dreaming off. But the fact of the matter was that he only though of you as a kid.

Just an immature, little, short, childish kid.

_Kid. Kiddo. Pal. Friend._

It was hard not to cringe when you heard those “terms of endearment” from him. You didn’t feel very _endeared_. Fifteen year old you hadn’t minded the silly pet names because fifteen year old you had definitely been just a silly little child with a silly little crush. The you of now? You wanted to be acknowledged—acknowledged as someone who was capable… someone who was equal.

Though, you didn’t feel equal. You mostly just felt sad. You felt worthless.

You felt numb.

You had a pair of scissors in your hand. _When had you gotten them?_

You were sitting on the floor. _When had you moved?_

The blade was open.

It was against your skin.

You made no noise as you pressed and slid and pressed and slid. Your hands were shaking. It wasn’t enough.

You pressed harder.

Again, again, again, again, your head was swirling with the painful sensation. The burning. The hurt. It was sharp and cut through the fog you had been feeling.

_It still wasn’t enough._

Papyrus had needed help with his newest creation—a cape that was “blood orange.” Sans didn’t know what that color meant. It just looked kind of red. Like, sure, it was a few shades off of the color of Pap’s other cape. But… it was just red. And maybe if Sans wasn’t currently thinking about a certain someone else, he might have taken the time to tease Papyrus about the pretentious term.

He was still kind of fuming from earlier.

_Fuck you, Sansta?!_

He would have glared at you if it hadn’t been so damn clever. Part of him had wanted to swell with pride and sweep you into a hug. The other part of him wanted to hit the brat, Alex, because he couldn’t bring himself to be completely angry at you.

Still though, he couldn’t even believe those words had come from your mouth. He cringed inwardly and rubbed the back of his skull with a sigh. And yes. He couldn’t believe his response either.

It had… just sort of happened.

You probably hadn’t even realized what a bag of bitter bones Sans was. He hoped you would never realize. He’d been kind of hoping he’d move on. He hadn’t.

Even before, with MK he’d been a little uncomfortable.

He’d thought your date with MK had been _cute_ —though maybe he didn’t really think it was cute because in all honesty when he’d found out? Oh boy, he had tried hard to quell the impulse to shortcut his way right over to you and your little date and put an end to it, maybe embarrassing either you or MK in the process—so yeah, maybe he had been a little envious at the time. He’d gotten over it quickly though, when you hadn’t gone on another date with the clumsy monster.

He’d almost forgotten about the incident and the confusing feelings he’d felt when it happened. After all, you hadn’t gone on any other dates. You never seemed very interested in dating.

But then the day your phone had gone off and he had just watched your every expression as you read through that first text from Alex. And he saw a little bit of surprise in your hazel eyes and he saw that light smile playing at your pink lips and suddenly felt a sort of fire light in his gut. The gut he didn’t have.

But he didn’t have a name for feeling because it wasn’t jealousy, no, it definitely wasn’t. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t the jealous type.

He liked to pretend, at least, he wasn’t the jealous type.

No, yeah, no, he definitely wasn’t the jealous type. That’d be immature and Sans was anything but immature. He was epitome of a mature person. Yeah?

Yeah…

He trudged upstairs. His mind was racing and he entered his room unaware of what he was about to discover.

“hey, frisk, buddy, pal, i’m sor—” There was a pause. You were staring at him with big doe eyes and his heart—or lack thereof—might have just melted at the sight except then he saw the flash of silver and his eye flashed blue and his grin turned into a grimace and he couldn’t help but clench his fists like he was ready to beat you. His soul thrumming with fear, anger, hatred, love.

“what the _fuck_ do you think you are doing, _kiddo_?” He tried to ask it calmly, wary and dangerously empty eyes focused on the not-knife— _they were just scissors, it was safe, right?_ —but his voice was little more than a threatening growl.

Your heart was thudding in your chest for all the wrong reasons. It was sort of exhilarating and sort of terrifying getting caught in the act and the tone of his voice made you fearful. Your adrenaline was pumping. You didn’t even look up from your legs, tainted red, but instead, dropped the scissors as though they were fire and jumped up.

Your gut clenched as you stared down at yourself.

_What had you done?_

The realization hit you like a steam train. You could feel tears welling in your eyes, your throat was closing up, your mouth opened and closed and opened and closed, then suddenly you found yourself whispering, franticly whimpering, the words falling from your mouth like water from the sink.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, I just saw them and I was feeling weird and I wanted to feel and I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”

You couldn’t even think of anything else to say. “I’m sorry’s” rang in your head.

Your outburst spurred him into action finally, moving him from just staring at you with that dark look on his face. Sure, he had been startled. He had though you had a knife at first. He realized they were scissors only after. He’d thought you were someone else for a moment.

Now? He was just concerned. Though yeah, he was angry—though mostly at himself. And yeah, he was scared—but not scared for him or scared of you. He was scared because how bad were you off to have started doing _this_? How had he not even noticed? Had he really been wrapped up so much in his own internal self-caused dramas that he missed the fact that you were _slipping down, down, down_?

Why hadn’t you _told_ him?

You were scared, too, he realized.

Scared of him? The idea hurt.

He came toward you slowly, hands outstretched and open as though approaching a frightened animal. He was just trying to prove he was harmless. You probably knew better than most that he was and never would be “harmless.”

“frisk, you… ok?” He wanted to say something else. Anything else. There were probably worse questions to lead with, but he couldn’t even think of an example. He just felt inept. He felt like he was not enough for you.

You were shaking your heard back and forth, hair bobbing, face scrunched up, fists clenched, legs throbbing. The continued mutters of, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” rang through the small grey room. Were they his words or yours?

You ran a hand curiously down the mottled flesh of your leg. Your skin. It was red, red, red. Rivers run in red. You were trembling.

“firks, shit, shit, shit, frisk,” he scooped you up and laid you on the bed. It creaked slightly beneath your combined weight.

He had a warm cloth in his skeletal hand, where had he gotten it? You didn’t question it.

His boney hand dabbed at each cut softly. It stung slightly, but not much. He was so gentle, it was like a whisper against your skin. It was like he was trying not to break you.

Your apologies hadn’t ceased. But he only mumbled, “frisk, oh god, frisk, why,” though he knew you wouldn’t and probably couldn’t give a proper answer.

Your legs were stinging, the cloth was hurting more than it soothed now. His bones were clacking from his own trembling.

You were so precious to him, why had you done this? He wanted to grab you and shake you and press his nonexistent lips to your forehead and cradle your small body to his chest if that’s what it would take to make sure you never ever brought a knife against your skin again. If it meant you would never hurt yourself again he would do anything. He’d do anything for you.

You were silent now. Your pain was a dull thrum in your ears. You could feel his cold fingers make trails down your leg. He wasn’t cleaning the cuts anymore, he seemed to be whispering something, more to himself than anyone, as he continued to trace up and down some of the deeper gashes you’d created on your leg.

It looked like they were healing themselves. He’d must have learned some sort of healing magic from Papyrus, though, you’d never seen him use it before. You’d never even seen Papyrus’ use healing magic before. Toriel was the only one who’d used it on you, and that was just the once.

The magic was cold and electric and it soothed you more than anything else had.

“frisk?” he breathed your name like it was something sacred.

You stayed silent.

“i’m sorry.”

That confused you. The soft and solemn tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine. He looked so sad as he kneeled beside you.

“i’m so, so sor—” he began to say before you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry Sans… I was clean for three months but I just felt so sad and anxious and hurt and… and… hopeless… and…” You were playing with the loose threads on the end of the sleeves of the little black cardigan you’d worn above your deep blue dress. He hushed you lightly, with a shake of his head.

“you need to _cut_ it out,” he gaped, becoming aware of his poor choice of words too late.

“Literally.” You quipped, quickly. There was no smirk on his face, and you knew it wasn’t the time for jokes, but you couldn’t help but giggle in satisfaction. Your high tinkling laugh seemed to break the trance like spell that had fallen over the two of you.

He took it as his cue to relax and the tension left the room. There was still deep concern in his eyes, but he could see the worry and exhaustion on your face. It wasn’t the time to begin questioning you. Instead he just wanted you to be comfortable.

So, he laid beside you, him on his side, you on your back. It was still quiet aside from your rattled breathing.

“kid,”

“I’m not a kid.”

He seemed surprised, if not a bit flustered as well, “f-frisk, you think i’m such a _numbskull_ that i didn’t notice you were no baby bones?” He was trying to joke, but it fell a little flatly. You were trying not to pout as you intently studied the flecks of white and grey on the ceiling. You were staring at what looked to be a dog-like-shape, you could always find funny patterns in the plaster used to design the walls and ceiling.

The silence fell between the two of you again.

“frisk, it’s almost christmas. a few more hours and we can open our first presents, yeah?” You only nodded in response, still staring determinedly at the ceiling.

He tried one last time, “frisk, how long has this been going on?” When he said ‘this’ his cool hand rubbed down your calf lightly by way of explaining what he was asking about. You shrugged non-committally.

Now was not the time for this conversation. Now was probably the only time for this conversation. You felt conflicted.

“A year, maybe two or three. I don’t know.” And you didn’t. You weren’t sure what constituted as self-harm anyway. Was it just the physical act of cutting? Surely not, you’d been doing things that hurt for as long as you could remember. Digging your nails into your skin just to feel the painful pressure? Or biting your hand or lip or the inside of your cheek until it stung? They were small things, seemingly accidental things, that didn’t leave marks. They were injuries that would fade within hours. No one would notice them.

And because they didn’t permanently scar you, was it really self-harm? You couldn’t be sure.

You could feel him shifting beside you before suddenly you were face to face with him. His boney legs were on one side of you but his hands were on either side of your head, his face leering down at your own.

“frisk,” he growled, “why… why didn’t you…”

“Tell anyone?” You finished for him.

He moved back and was soon kneeling again. You took a moment to sit up and lean against the wall, a pillow supporting your back. Unconsciously you bit your lip, trying to piece together what exactly you wanted to say, “I guess, I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening.”

“I… it’s hard to talk right now, can… will you be mad… I’m going to sign.” He didn’t say anything, but on the inside he was a little disappointed. It felt like a wall was going up between the two of you and he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t like it one bit.

He was used to being the one who added distance, he didn’t like the fact that you suddenly felt unable to speak around him.

A smaller side of him bemoaned the loss of your soft, hesitant, quiet and gentle voice. It was something that’d always been so soothing to him. He loved it.

 _“I sometimes feel sad. Not just sad. Empty.”_ You pulled your knees to your chest, ignoring the potential immodesty of the action considering you were still wearing your sundress. Sans wasn’t even looking at you by this point, so it didn’t actually matter in any case.

You coughed slightly, trying to grab his attention once more. His head snapped back toward you and studied your face carefully, as though he was trying to memorize each curve and divot in your skin. He seemed so distracted as he lifted a hand to gently cup your face. You couldn’t help the pink blush that rose on your face, nor the nervous swallow.

Any words or explanation you had prepared died instantly.

You coughed again, awkwardly now, and he seemed to come suddenly and violently to his senses. You could have sworn there was a slight, _was that blue?,_ tinge of color to the bone under his eyes and around the hole that would have been his nose. Was… was that a skeletal blush? You’d seen Papyrus blush with delight and embarrassment so many times before, but you’d only ever seen Sans break from his grinning façade when something was really very wrong, but now he was looking guilty and sheepish and what was that other emotion in his eye sockets? You couldn’t tell.

And when had your heart started beating so quickly? You hadn’t been prepared for his proximity nor had you been ready for the sudden distance. A small shameless part of you wanted to whine. The rest of you quickly clamped down on the impulse.

Now it was his turn to cough quietly, making you realize you’d been staring.

“like what you see?” You could have sworn if he had any damn eyebrows he’d be wiggling them in the most suggestive manner right now. It made you want to slap that smirk off of his dumb boney skull.

“Well, just returning the favor since you seemed so ready to ogle me earlier,” you snapped back, face flushed but smile ever present.

He couldn’t help but chuckle in response. You could be quite snarky when you wanted, and while he appreciated your innately funny and _humerus_ self, he wasn’t as much of a fan when your wit was being used against him.

Hadn’t he just been thinking about how sweet and soft your voice was?

“ah, well, i mean,”

Papyrus cut him short and he tried not to be annoyed at being interrupted yet again within the short hour. You, though, could only yelp in surprise as you were being dragged swiftly out the door by Sans’ taller, nicer and noticeably more rambunctious brother. Sans got up lazily while pushing his hands deep into his jacket pockets before slowly following the two of you out.

“Sans!” Papyrus reprimanded, “We do not need you right now, I need to have a very important discussion with _our_ very important Frisk, and _YOU_ cannot be present because I, the GREAT Papyrus, has this handled.”

 _Well,_ Sans huffed, _that was very odd_.

He lingered by the kitchen that you and Papyrus were standing and whispering in, but couldn’t hear much. Giving up, though still very curious, he grumbled his way up the stairs, muttering things in a lightly mocking tone, “don’t need me? pah… ‘important’ discussion.”

“Frisk! My dear human friend, it has—” he looked suddenly down at you and was taken aback, “are you hurt, young human?”

You shook your head, placing a reassuring hand on Papyrus’s chest—you couldn’t quite reach his shoulder despite trying.

“If… if you’re sure…” you nodded, repeating that you were fine, he begrudgingly agreed, “well, yes, of course, you are fine! You’re with the GREAT Papyrus! Of course you’re fine!” He mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, “you’re fine.” You didn’t bother pointing out that he’d already said that.

“So…” a pause was taken for dramatic effect,” Frisk?” You tilted your head questioningly, “I get the feeling that you like Sans, am I right?” He began and finished with no further preamble.

Your stomach dropped.

_Ah, shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 20 in which nothing happened like the author intended, awekjjfbaelrkjgb kerjgbjlaetgb


	21. Oh, Deja Vu!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I'm sorry for the break between last chapter and this one, I was having such a hard time getting my thoughts in order enough to write. I don't know how much I'll update in the next couple days because my brother was injured badly and had to make another visit to the doctor. Also, I have work despite being on break from school, so I don't get as much free-time as I'd like (gotta pay for college somehow, yanno).
> 
> If you'd like to contact me or have questions, you can find me at http://chichiluffsyou.tumblr.com/

_“Of course I like Sans, he’s my friend.”_ You signed quickly, hands trembling slightly

“Frisk! You and I both know that I know that you know that I know that you know that THAT is NOT what I meant AT all!” He countered, a wry smile painting his skull.

Well, you couldn’t exactly argue. You knew what he meant. He knew you knew. There wasn’t much more to say than that, so rather than giving a response you lifted your shoulders in an awkward shrug and let silence fall between the two of you.

Sans was upstairs, and you hoped to the heavens and back that he could not hear Papyrus’ glee as the taller and lanky skeleton bounced about the kitchen. He seemed to have taken your not-answer as an answer.

“I KNEW it! Ha! I! THE GREAT PAPYRUS! WAS CORRECT!” He was only growing in volume and you leaped at him in panic when he opened his jaw ready to shout something else.

 _“Don’t let Sans know! Please!”_ You begged silently. He nodded, closing his jawbone firmly with a thoughtful look on his face.

Clumsily, from lack of practice, he signed to you, _“You need to tell Sans. He is my brother, I don’t know his feelings, you should tell yours. I think it will be okay.”_

The thought of telling Sans something so embarrassing like that made your gut squirm in discomfort, but you had to placate Papyrus or he’d never let you go. Stiffly, you nodded.

“Then, I, the GREAT Papyrus, shall help you with a PLAN of ATTACK!”

Wait, what? But it was too late, he was already dragging you out the door and into the darkness of the night—presumably for late night shopping?

You appeared to be wrong as the boisterous skeleton pounded on Undyne and Alphys’ door. It opened and a startled looking yellow lizard peered out warily. You smiled and waved from behind Papyrus. Alphys’ face instantly brightened upon seeing the two of you and she invited you in quickly, not even stuttering once as she asked if you guys wanted any drinks.

With a nice hot cup of golden flower tea warming your cold hands and a blanket over your lap, Papyrus settled beside you on the couch, Alphys and Undyne started to question your sudden visit—though they were quick to assure you they were very happy to have you there.

They were discussing you, but you hardly listened, instead taking the time to think about Sans. He didn’t know where you guys had gone, in fact, neither of you had told him you were even leaving. He was probably in some state of mild panic, or at the very least he was probably dying of curiosity. It wasn’t often that Papyrus left without notice.

You snuck your phone out and sent Sans an “SOS” of sorts, explaining that Papyrus had taken you away. A part of you hoped he’d come save you from this sudden and stressful get-together.

Though, if you were truthful, the atmosphere of being with these three kindly, if not sometimes a little intense, monsters was incredibly relieving after the heavy discussion you’d been having with Sans. You knew that it wasn’t completely over and it’d be a while before he trusted you on your own again, but another side of you was just so completely glad that he knew now.

He knew how badly you’d been hurting, and how hard some days were.

He knew nearly everything now, and he hadn’t hated you for being weak.

“Frisky, Frisk, Frissssk,” Undyne let the ‘s’ slide off of her tongue slowly as she smirked in your direction—her taunting voice snapped you from your thoughts, “Hahaha, I feel like a fish outa’ water! You like Sans? Oh boy, you’re growing up now, kid!” She rustled the hair on your head rather roughly and you were almost surprised it didn’t just fall right out.

You shrugged noncommittally, and she seemed to accept that as an appropriate response. You were, after all, a person of few words.

Alphys took a different approach, only giving you a small thumbs up and surreptitious wink. You were trying desperately hard to hide your flaming face. It was dumb that just getting a little bit teased about your small (definitely not small) crush on the small (he actually is kind of small) skeleton was getting you so flustered. It had been a long day though, so maybe your emotions were just more on the surface than normal.

The night wrapped up with them basically urging you to “confess and claim your love!” Which. You weren’t. ‘In love.’ Per se. You just had a crush, obviously… _Just a crush_. It hadn't been a bad night, really it hadn't, you'd enjoyed spending time with the cute couple and boisterous Papyrus, but you were even more glad to feel the cold night's air on your face as you walked home with Paps. You still couldn't help but fume silently at the events of the past day or so. It was too much embarrassment for you to handle.

You were so flustered and trapped within your own mind that you didn’t even see the lights coming toward you and Papyrus. You were clutching his cold, large, thin hand and he was talking so animatedly to you. You weren’t even paying attention, your thoughts more focused on a certain other much shorter skelefriend. You didn’t notice the growling of engine being pushed too hard, nor the blaring horn from the car itself.

It was all over in an instant. A screech of tires, a sudden impact, pain, unbearable pain—yet strangely familiar—and a sickening snap noise as your spin shattered. Papyrus was trembling, looking near death himself, and crying your name, but you couldn’t hear him. The world faded away.

You blinked and you were suddenly leaning against Sans’ bed once more, the carpeted floor feeling rough against your bare feet. You felt like you had been hit by a truck or something, though whatever memories you’d had previously had already started to fade.

Some part of your conscious recognized that this had happened before, that you’d been here already and done this, though you couldn’t even recall what had been happening the past few minutes.

You couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine. This was all too familiar to have not already happened. Your brow furrowed as you attempted to remember all that had occurred. You briefly remembered a flash of lights and the squeal of rubber on metal, Papyrus’ gentle and despairing cries, and so many others flashed through your mind.

You could feel the cold weight of the silver scissors in your palm. After such a rush of memories from the short lived previous timeline, it was almost comforting to hold the object in your hand. All too soon you could feel the stinging on your legs and when you glanced down at your folded legs you were appalled to see the droplets of blood that bubbled up on each of your cuts.

It seemed somehow, you’d saved while self-harming. The thought made you nauseous and you tried not to think about it.

Unlike before when Sans had calmly walked in, midsentence, he burst through the door, an odd expression on his face.

“frisk, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” He wasn’t yelling, and he didn’t actually seem all that angry, though the chilling emptiness in his eyes did make you slightly nervous. The room was thick with fear, both yours and his, and you didn’t say anything while he stood in the doorway, panting.

He blinked a few times, a few more moments ticked on by and he was beginning to look far calmer. It took another moment for him to notice the metal in your hands and the blood slowly seeping down your legs.

They stung a little, but you didn’t really notice it. Slowly, maintaining eye contact the entire while, you set the scissors on the nightstand beside you before resting your hands in your lap. You, equally as slow, stretched your legs out so he could see you had nothing else on you.

“this happened before, but not like this.” It was more of a question despite sounding like a statement. You nodded, he frowned.

He had to quell his feelings of anger and mistrust. He knew you, he… he knew you very well and he _knew_ more than anything that you wouldn’t load an old SAVE if it weren’t necessary. Yet, even though he could reason it out so simply, the anger came back, tinged with fear.

The sight of you with those silver scissors, so like a knife, the blood dotting your mottled legs, the sudden feeling of sickness as he found himself beside Papyrus having some sort of discussion he wasn’t prepared for. He knew then that he’d been doing something else entirely a moment before, and he knew _why._

He could not stop the words, though he tried to muffle the obvious bitterness in his tone, “what’s wrong with you, frisk?”

“Many, many things and most of them are your fucking fault!”

The tension was palpable. He tried not to choke upon hearing that. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all. To feel your anger, and your sadness, frustration, and so much more all packed into one small sentence. It was all too much. He couldn’t say much to that, after all, it was probably true.

“fair enough.”

A short silence settled upon the room before you found yourself snorting in disbelief. Of all the answers he could have given? You hadn’t expected that. You’d always thought he’d blamed you for the bad runs, for the mishaps, for the murders, but instead he agreed so easily. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the moment. He began to chuckle, too. The noise was like music to your ears and you found yourself smiling up at him, your scratched up legs forgotten for the moment, and his temporary panic put to the side. He chose this moment to move into the room and scoop you up into a hug.

You had never clung to someone so hard before, tears in your eyes, but a smile on your face. He had a fistful of your short hair grasped in one hand and another grabbing at the back of your dress. Once all the anger, betrayal, _the fear_ had left all he felt was relief that you were okay. He just wanted to relish the fact that you were here.

“so… what happened?”

“I… I think I died.”

“oh, frisk, shit, kiddo…” he clutched you tighter as you shifted to sit across his lap, arms around his neck. He picked you up carefully, carrying you bridal-style, and clambered onto his bed. With his back leaning against the wall and a few of his scrunched up pillows surrounding the two of you, he whispered, “i’m sorry i panicked, kiddo, i’m so, so, sorry.”

He gingerly rubbed a boney hand down your calf, tracing the drying blood on your legs. “this seems familiar, sit tight, i’m not _spineless_ when it comes to blood, but i gotta clean this up, gotta clean ya up.”

It took mere seconds and soon your legs were cleaned and bandaged, and you were once more placed in his lap. He didn’t comment on it, and neither did you. You only sat, cradled in his arms, and basked in warm glow of this safe feeling.

“knock knock” he said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Who’s there?”

“’tis I, the GREAT Papyrus!” You blinked, confused, then turned to the door and saw the lanky skeleton standing in the doorway. Sans practically shoved you away from him as much as you scrambled away, embarrassment staining your face.

“Frisk! Are you busy?” He paused, and thankfully ignored the blush on your cheeks, yet he seemed to notice the bandages that covered your otherwise bare legs, “HUMAN! Are you ALRIGHT?”

“ah, paps, frisk is _bone_ tired and needs rest, ok?” He winked at you before getting up and leading Papyrus out of the room. You could hear Papyrus’ voiced concerns and Sans’ gentle assurances that you were okay.

Already this timeline was altered from the previous one, though, you didn’t mind the fact that you could avoid that awkward conversation with Papyrus.

You weren’t sure for how long they had talked, you’d obviously fallen asleep at some point, dreams coming and going. Fits of nightmares taking the place of some of your lighter dreams. It’d been a traumatic day, your brain was just trying to cope.

_“Sans, I’m sorry.”_


	22. Determination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i was going for fluff but then it just ended up as angst, i think the next chapter for sure will be a bit more light-hearted, so look forward to that. thank you guys for being patient with me and i hope to get back into the swing of updating very often <3
> 
> comments and feedback are much appreciated!

_“I’m sorry, Sans, I’m sorry!” You screamed, though no words came from your hoarse throat. You wanted to throw yourself at his feet and beg for mercy. To beg for forgiveness. Yet, you could not control your body, you couldn’t control your words, nor your hands as they clenched around the well-used knife._

_There was an artificial light shining down between the columns, telling of a faux-beautiful day. The birds called to each other in harmony. You imagined on any other day Monster Kid or any of the other children in the Underground would be out and about, playing and running in the falsely warm light._

_He stood before you. Eyes as empty as you felt._

_You felt your head tilt back and a sinister laugh bubble out from within, and you felt the hazy thoughts filled with malice make themselves present. They weren’t your thoughts nor your actions. None of this was your fault. You tried to fight what was happening, you’d been trying to fight it this whole time, but nothing you do could fix the horror you inflicted upon this world._

_You couldn’t explain this feeling, like you were just a bird in a cage, trapped within yourself, unable to control anything. Unable to do anything other than watch your friends die beneath your blade._

_His eyes glinted dangerously as he took a step toward you, frame shaking in what you suspected was rage. You moved forward to match him, though your hands were steady and your eyes void of emotion._

_While he was angry, you seemed to just be bored._

_But it wasn’t you! It wasn’t you! How come Sans didn’t see that it wasn’t you!? You were sitting here, trapped in your cage, shaking the walls, trying to escape while he moved toward you with such anger and vehemence and… hatred. It wasn’t you… couldn’t he tell? Why couldn’t he tell…_

_“I am the demon that comes when you call my name.” Your voice was lower in pitch than normal, and gratingly harsh on your sensitive ears._

_Sans only laughed in response, “sure, kiddo, my bones are just rattlin’ ‘cause i’m so scared of you.”_

_You gripped the knife tighter, but in truth you wanted nothing more than to just drop it, to throw it as far as you could away from yourself._

_“it’s kind of hard to be afraid of you when you’re like what, a foot shorter than me?”_

_You… it wasn’t you… the creature that controlled you lunged forward, a mercilessly gleeful look plastered on your—their—face. They had all the time in the world to play and have fun, but Sans had an idiotic smirk placed over his usual grin and the sight of it irked them. They wanted nothing more than to make him eat his words. They wanted to see him tremble in fear at the sight of them—of you. They wanted to hear his anguished cries as they ground his skull into the dirt._

_They wanted you to watch as the sliced and cut and diced and thrust with the knife, hoping to hit their mark._

_They wanted to show you how soft his dust was._

_You cried, begged, and pleaded._

_Your soul was resilient, you hated it so. His soul was so fragile in comparison. It shattered all too soon._

_His dust settled beneath your feet, and they lazily swung a leg through it while you looked on in despair._

_There was nothing you could do._

_“Let’s play again, yeah?”_

_The world fell away and restarted._

You awoke to screaming, the sound loud and harsh. It rang through the room on and on and on. You weren’t even sure where you were right now, the sheets were tangled around your legs, you felt sick. The screams wouldn’t stop, why wouldn’t they stop? Your lungs burned, your throat hurt, you realized suddenly that you were the one screaming. The noise wouldn’t stop ringing from your mouth. A cold sweat covered your body. The screaming wouldn’t end. Was it your voice? Or was it _theirs_? It’d been so long since you’d had a dream like this.

_It couldn’t be their voice. They’d long since been gone… ever since you’d escape the Underground their taunting had ceased._

You thrashed, noticing as your sense came back to you that there was something holding you down. Your voice died out, ruined from your panicked cries.

“woah, kiddo, woah! no one has a _bone to pick_ with you! settle down!”

“S-sans?” you scratchily whispered. Your limbs felt weak, your soul disheartened, you fell limp in his grasp.

With a shaky hand you reached up to cup his cheekbone, it was so smooth and cool. You leaned your head back, tilting your chin up, to look up at him. He had you leaned back against his chest, arms wrapped around you in a protective way.

When had he come to wake you? How long had you been sleeping for?

Lightly, so lightly you couldn’t be sure it had even happened, he pressed what would be his lips, his mouth, rather, against your clammy forehead. Your heart squeezed uncomfortably at the sweet gesture, it made your pulse race, but not in the same way your night terror had.

“to pa-tell-ya the truth, kiddo, i didn’t think you were still having nightmares. i thought, somehow, that all this time-fuckery had left you unaffected. i guess i’m just a numbskull.” He murmured the words into the top of your head, as you nestled further into the sheets, and relaxed more comfortably against him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, it seemed your voice was worn from the sudden overuse, but also… you just didn’t know what was even right to say at this point.

It wasn’t as though you could just turn and shout ‘yes, I’m a major fuck up who doesn’t know how to deal with my problems!’ or ‘Sans, I’ve got ninety nine problems and your strange tendency to kill me is at least eighty of them!’ or even just a simple ‘you think?’

None of those things could suffice to explain all the feelings you had nestled within yourself. It couldn’t explain your frustrations, fears, nor your inexplicable love for him and all the other monsters who also at some point had seen the color of your blood (probably a few more times than you’d like to admit).

He seemed to understand your unwillingness to speak, because for once, instead of making you do all the work, he only gently rubbed your shoulders and spoke softly to you, his low voice soothing on your frazzled nerves.

“frisk, you know i have nightmares. i… i have a lot of guilt… i have a lot of hatred inside me too, it’s not healthy. then there is you, kiddo, who is so pure and sweet. you don’t have a mean bone in your body—though sometimes i think you’re hinting at wanting one.” You could envision the shit-eating grin he probably wore despite not being able to face him and see it for yourself.

“frisk, when i get destructive, it goes outward and usually ends up harming others—and in the end the guilt eats at me. but you… you blame yourself for all of this, don’t you?”

“kiddo, we don’t know why you can manipulate destiny and time and space so easily, but you can, though, it doesn’t seem entirely conscious… but that’s neither here nor there, huh,” He paused, as though he was trying to choose his next words carefully.

“what i’m trying—and failing—to say… is that, well, kid, when you get destructive? you only destroy yourself.”

And for some reason hearing that from his mouth only made your heart sink. It was as though those words flipped a switch somewhere inside you and you felt the years of abuse, years of mistreatment, years of angst, years of sadness, anger, fear all come and swell up at once. You couldn’t have stopped the flood of tears if you’d wanted to.

And the whole time he never questioned you, instead only holding you tight as your body shook with all of your unleashed guilt.

You’d never been able to get truly angry at someone for as long as you could remember, and even when you got frustrated or irritated, the feeling quickly turned into a sort of self-loathing. The thing about hating yourself, though, was that not many people ever could notice.

The cliché of “the saddest people always smile the brightest” was, in fact, painfully true. Sure, you’d seen some real horrors in your lifetime (or, lifetimes), but never once had you acted spitefully or with true anger. You’d always blamed yourself for any of the hardships you'd experienced. It was always your fault, never others.

Your form of destructive was especially dangerous because it was the kind that often couldn’t be seen until it was far too late. _A brief image of you standing atop a building, staring down at the street that seemed so cold, hard and deathly inviting. You jumped._

The memory made you shudder.

“frisk?”

You shifted in his grasp to turn and look up at him again. His eye sockets portrayed a sadness you hadn’t seen before, it caught you off guard. His skull had droplets of sweat rolling down it, slowly, lazily, just like how he was, and his usual grin was instead replaced by a comforting and soft but sad smile.

“no bones about it, we both need help.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words.

His love filled you with determination.


	23. Take a Breather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised fluff! I hope I delivered. This (short) chapter is just a little breather from all the angst and sadness we've been having, also, we hear a little bit about Paps and Sans. I hope you don't mind all the dialogue!
> 
> Feedback would be greatly appreciated <3 <3

You laid beside him in bed, he was still sitting up with his back leaned against the wall. You listened intently to his ramblings. He had a thin skeletal hand on your shoulder and another running gently through your thick hair. It was such a soothing feeling, it eased all of the pain you had been feeling these past few days… months… years. He enjoyed it just as much, your warmth filling him with comfort and a sense of peace he didn’t often get.

He probably would never admit it, not to himself or anyone for that matter, but he loved having you here with him, he loved the comfortable atmosphere that was always between the two of you.

“yeah,” he was saying, voice filled with a nostalgic affection, “paps and i hadn’t lived in snowdin for long before you showed up, yanno? we lived in the capitol before that… but ya know me, no bones about it, i love a good pun, so snowdin was callin’ my name..” he trailed off, and though you knew that wasn’t the full story about why he and Papyrus moved from the capitol, you decided not to question it.

There had been enough drama today as it was, no need to stir what wanted to stay dormant.

 “i like the snow, tibia honest. our first gyftrot-day in snowdin was quite a blizzard of activity” He winked and you smile, interested to hear more of his life, “the capitol didn’t have that sort of holiday event, it warmed my tired ol’ bones to see everyone in such cheer though, never seen such a sense of community before. before tori left asgore the kingdom was pretty tightknit, but after the ordeal with chara and asriel—“

You tried not to flinch at the use of their names, though you couldn’t help yourself, if he noticed, though, he didn’t make a comment about it, instead choosing to continue his story, “and the queen leaving her throne, we all sort of… stayed to ourselves. a lot of monsters decided not to make trips to the castle or the capitol and instead focused on staying in their separate towns… i think they were trying to accept the fact that they might be trapped under here for eternity.”

“sometimes i wonder what would have happened if ya hadn’t come to save us, it seems that the king would have been overthrown eventually, i mean, don’t get me wrong, everyone loved asgore, just as they loved toriel, but sometimes… well, monsters can only take so much, yanno?”

He paused in his story and ran his fingers through your hair with a feather light touch, everything he did was always so gentle with you. The only times he’d gotten angry were the times he usually had a good reason for it. Right now, though, he was so soft and gentle and timid, as he described in detail to you of what it was like to live down there, what he remembered of Papyrus and the Underground before you had come and changed everything.

You snuggled deeper into his chest, the smooth fabric rustling from your movement. His ribs weren’t as sharp nor hurt as much as he feared they would, instead it was a comforting solidness, something that grounded you as much as comforted you. You felt so safe wrapped in his arms, listening to his tales.

“oh man, kid, the first day i went into grillby’s was probably the oddest one of my life. i had a job, before my one at the sentry station, and that job would always make me bone-tired. i needed a break, yeah? so i headed down to the little bar in snowdin and sat myself down at a stool. i didn’t know that all the guards liked to hang out there, and lemme tell ya, being a skeleton around a bunch of slobbering mutts is not a treat, though, they seemed to think it—i was. imagine explaining to paps why my foot was missing. we got it back though, no worries there, plus, them guards seemed awful sorry about it too. turned out they just wanted to play.”

Your smile probably couldn’t get bigger than it was, how cute, you thought. You could picture the scene in your head, a tired Sans leaned over the counter in his usual spot at Grillby’s and one of the guards, probably Greater Dog—Greater Dog was always the most playful—grabbing Sans bone and running off, tail wagging excitedly. The poor dog probably just wanted to play a game of fetch, he was probably trying to make Sans feel welcome in the new little town.

As though reading your thoughts he pressed a pseudo-kiss onto the top of your head before speaking, “yeah, it was odd, but i think they were just tryin’ to make me feel at home.”

“i don’t talk much of these things anymore, it’s a little weird for me… i mean, to tell people about these little moments… it used to be that the people who i’d tell this to had been the people who were there with me at the time… but… well… now i’m layin’ here like a lazy bones and chattin’ up a storm in my rush to tell ya all these memories.”

“Your ol’ bones are clackin’ and chattin’” You murmured sleepily, “tell me about Papyrus?”

Sans was more than glad to as he shifted slightly to get comfortable, “ah, paps, did you know that when paps was just a baby bones he used to be so short and small. i don’t even know how long ago that was, and i’m not even sure how old either of us are or who is older, but, well, i used to be able to carry little paps all over and boy, he’d throw such a fuss about it, complainin’ that if he was to be in the royal guard someday he couldn’t be lookin’ like a little kiddie gettin’ carried around.”

“of course, now i can’t carry him any more, but undyne sure can, and she’s hell bent on proving it every moment she can. he doesn’t even complain, pro’lly wants too much to be in the royal guard… or at least, he did, now…? i think he lets her do it because he actually thinks it’s fun. i never know with that bag of silly bones.”

You chuckled lightly, the sound was enticing to Sans and made his ribs thrum unevenly and his soul ache just the slightest. He was glad you weren’t looking up at him with your sweet and soft eyes, and that you couldn’t see the look of adoration filling his eye sockets as he watched you.

“frisk?”

“Yeah, Sans?”

“do you want to hear a joke?”

Your face scrunched up in response and he resisted the urge to laugh.

“well, i hope this one’ll tickle your funny bone.”

His hand gently prodded at your sides, fingers moving deftly, as you broke into laughter, “Y-you c-c-can’t use that j-joke!” The words came out between huffed laughs and deep breaths, part of you hated that he knew how ticklish your sides were, and part of you—most of you—loved it.

“Y-y-you u-used th-that o-one last t-time!”

You couldn’t stop your wriggling, as though you were trying to squirm from his grip, though, you didn’t seem to be trying especially hard. Eventually though, when tears from laughter had sprung to your eyes and your stomach muscles ached from your deep, bellied laughs, he relented, releasing you from your tickle-torture.

Some people hated to be tickled, and though you were so especially sensitive to it, you actually kind of enjoyed it. Laughing and giggling and moving so freely without a care in the world while someone tickles you is kind of a fun little experience, especially when said person is someone you happen to like.

“what can i say frisk? i’m joked out, only got a few up my sleeves, really.” He emphasized his words by pushing up one of his sleeves, revealing the thick white bones that made up his arm.

Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought it back. You reached a hand up and gently grabbed around his radius. You were so small, still, in comparison to him, your hands so small, too. It was easy enough for your fingers to fit right between the ulna and radius of his arm.

He suppressed a shiver, this sensation wasn’t like any he’d felt before. Holding hands was one thing, but grabbing arms or bones like that was so personal it felt a little weird. Not exactly unpleasant, just weird. Noticing the slight grimace on his face you quickly retracted your hand.

“O-oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t meant to hurt you.” Your face flushed red with embarrassment and yours eyes filled with worry, though, if you peered hard enough through the darkness you could almost see a slight blue tint on his cheek bones.

“s’not a problem, frisk, just wasn’t expectin’ it. you didn’t hurt me at all, kiddo.” He reassured you, placing his hand back on your head and gently drumming his fingers on the top of your scalp. You studied him for a minute more before slowly letting yourself turn and lean back into his comforting warmth.

The two of you stayed like that the rest of the night, sleep came peacefully and quietly.


	24. Better Be Jolly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay well here is a chapter! uhm! it's kind of a lot of introspection, though maybe not very deep in meaning! We have some small Paps and Sans interactions. Not much by the way of fluff, but no angst either! So. Yeah! Hopefully that's alright with you all!
> 
> (Also, here is a link to my personal blog: [My Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyou.tumblr.com/))
> 
> (Also, also, I'm going to be doing a livestream of the Genocide route on Twitch, if you'd like to join me, that'd be awesome, otherwise no pressure! It'll probably be the 26th or 27th, so yeah! On there I have the pacifist route already done and up, so that's also a thing. Anyways, here is a link if you'd like to check it out: [Twitch](http://www.twitch.tv/chichiluffsyou))
> 
> (I'll actually play other games eventually too, but since the story is Undertale-related, I figured that's what you guys would prefer to know about... Anyways, uhm, that's all!)

It was Christmas! _Christmas!_ You could hardly contain your glee. You were eighteen years of age and god be damned if you weren’t as giddy as a five year old receiving a new miniature pony (or whatever it is that five year olds dream about as that age). As you always did on the festive holiday you woke up far earlier than any person ought to, far earlier than you’d like to. In your sleep-induced groggy state you barely registered the surprisingly heavy skeletal arms that were wrapped around your shoulders. You were lying in bed beside your _friend_ Sans, his jawbone resting on the top of your head while you were snuggled into the crook of his shoulder.

You blinked, feeling a lot more awake than before. You wanted to jump up and hum and sing and dance because for the love of god! It was Christmas! Everyone would be together and open gifts and there would be smiles and happiness and dumb jokes and carols galore. It was the one holiday that you got exceedingly stoked for. (Probably a little too excited for, if you were honest)

It was the one holiday that didn’t have bad memories tied to it. Your birthday? Was always a reminded of the fact that your “mother” had made a “mistake.” That you were just a mistake. Valentines? Your “mother” tended to come home twice as drunk and with likely twice as many suitors on that stupid fluff-filled holiday. The rest of the holidays always just got swept under the rug… They weren’t important to you or your “mother.” (In the past couple years you’d thought about her less and less, and now? You couldn’t even bring yourself to call her your mother without grimacing. Toriel was your mother. That other person? She was just… just nothing. She wasn’t anything and she didn’t need to be)

But here, with your real friends, the ones who loved and cared for you, all of the holidays human and monster alike were celebrated with such enthusiasm and joy. It nearly made up for all of the pitiful excuses for celebrations you’d had as a child.

And so now here you were, your crush practically hugging the life out of you in his sleep, a small and sweet smile on his face rather than the typical grin, and your heart pounding for not just him but for the whole day in general! You were filled with excitement, with happiness, with contentment.

Plus, if you were right, the conference you’d had with a Prime Minster from another country would go live today, and it discussed the integration of monster holidays on the calendar in order to promote the dream, which was, “a society that had come together in both species and culture” or something like that. Most of the big battles of being an ambassador had been won, you were practically useless now, more of a figure head than anything else, but you still did your best to win over the small things.

It wasn’t like racism against monsters—or against humans, for that matter—was gone nor that everyone was happy or accepted their new “friends,” but, officially, monsters had almost all the rights of a human, and, with luck, they would be putting their own officials in places of the various governments around the world. All of this was going to ensure the prosperity and peace of both humans and monsters.

Sans shifted slightly, his deep breathing so calming and grounding. You tried carefully to extract yourself from his grip, eager to get started on the Christmas-joy, but the moment you’d escaped he weakly flutter an eye open to gaze at you. The grin on his face was drowsy and cute. He waved lazily, “g’morn…” before turning around and presumably going back to sleep.

You know? For two people who weren’t dating, you sure slept together a lot… Your face reddened at the implications of that.

Quickly, you shook off the embarrassing thought from your head before carefully treading your way downstairs, phone in hand. You had so many Christmas texts to send, and Toriel was first to receive. She was also an early riser on this holiday and it wasn’t even ten minutes before your phone buzzed, announcing her response.

Apparently, based on the silly selfie she’d sent, Asgore had stayed over. You were so glad they continued to talk and be friends, even if it wasn’t romantic, it was so nice to see them interact. And although it’d taken a couple years for them to rekindle the close bond they’d shared when married, you were beyond happy that they’d saved it in the end. Maybe they would never get remarried or be anything more than friends, but, the fact that they could forgive each other for their downfalls and sins was more important than anything.

In the photo Asgore had a sheepish grin on his face and flour spilled on his beard and down his front, while Toriel had a mischievous grin on her face with a large mixing bowl clasped in her hands. They were already getting the seasonal-treats ready, just the thought of all the food made your stomach groan and your mouth water. You were _so_ ready for today. It’d be a nice breather from everything that had happened the past few days, too.

You quickly gathered your things from downstairs and headed back to your home to help prepare for the party later that day.

Papyrus had waited until you left before quietly—or as quietly as a large, somewhat bumbling, seven foot tall being who was not used to sneaking around could possibly be—padding up the stairs to rouse Sans. He stopped in the doorway, watching the rise and fall of Sans chest as he slept. Breathing wasn’t completely necessary, nor was eating for that matter, for the two skeletons, but, it was more comfortable to eat and breathe. He studied Sans for a second more, seeing the lack of worry lines etched into his skull. This was the most relaxed Papyrus had seen his brother in a long time.

Sans was a good actor, Papyrus knew this better than anyone. It couldn’t have been easy for him, Sans, to be able to work as many jobs as he had to and take care of all of their friends. It was… exceptional. Papyrus may act naïve and boisterous, but he did have a keen eye for small details. He always noticed the flashes of worry or tiredness that would appear and just as quickly disappear in Sans’ eye sockets.

Yet, as Sans lay there, one arm strewn over his head and the other clutching his stomach, mouth the tiniest bit agape with the smallest tint of blue staining his otherwise white cheek bones, Papyrus couldn’t help but just stop and stare. Sans looked so much younger when he was sleeping. It was as though the weight of all of his responsibility had left him in that moment.

Papyrus knew of the nights where Sans would have a restless sleep, if he even managed to get to sleep, that was. Sans always refused to talk about things, instead he just insisted he was fine. Papyrus wasn’t oblivious enough to not know a lie when he saw it. On the other hand, though, he’d also noticed that Sans seemed to sleep easier when you were around. He noticed the easy smile on Sans face when you were around. He’d seen the way you’d laugh at Sans silly jokes even when they weren’t funny enough to warrant the slightest chuckle. He’d watched as Sans would ever so casually find himself sitting just a little bit closer to you.

He’d noticed a lot of the little things you two did as you danced around each other, avoiding potential feelings. He just couldn’t understand why you guys weren’t being honest about it. It seemed like the most obvious thing in the world to Papyrus. Like a sort of “just confess already!” sort of feeling. He just wanted you to be happy… he just wanted Sans to be loved like he deserved to be.

He’d noticed it first when you were about sixteen, though, he wondered if maybe Sans had been crushing even before then. He’d see the way that Sans’ eyes would trail your movements, an unreadable look in his eyes. Sans would always, always look away with his brow furrowed before you could notice his glances. Papyrus remembered seeing on more than one occasion you slip your small hand into Sans’ large one, or vice versa.

He hadn’t thought anything of it at first, but when he watch his brother’s reaction he could see the slightest blush on his cheek bones and sweat on the back of his skull. Yet, you confused him, because while he knew his brother cared for you on some level, and it _seemed_ like you cared for him the same way, you continued to date other people.

The first time he’d really known just how deep Sans was for you was on MK and yours date. He remembered ecstatically running to Sans to tell him the good news—forgetting for the moment that Sans may or may not like you. He remembered Sans strained “oh, is that so?” and the bad mood that had ensued. Even when Papyrus dropped hints—and Papyrus was in no way subtle about these hints—Sans refused to acknowledge it.

“what’s up baby bones?” Sans tired voice stirred Papyrus from his thoughts.

“You!! Hopefully!” Papyrus said quickly, moving into Sans’ room finally and sitting on the edge of the bed. Sans shifted toward him as the bed dipped from Papyrus’ weight.

“where’s frisk?” Sans asked groggily, using one hand to rub at where his eyes would have been.

“They left early! Sans! You lazy bones! We’ve got to open gifts and make breakfast and go to Toriel’s house later and… Ah! Sans, we have MUCH to do!” Papyrus’ loud voice was not exactly what Sans wanted at about seven in the morning, but it seemed to be what he was getting, so begrudgingly Sans got up, grumbling the entire time while Papyrus bounced around the room excitedly.

“paps, did santa bring lot’s o’ gifts?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Come on! I, the GREAT Papyrus, want you to open your gifts too! I bought you some things I think you will LOVE!”

“i expected nothing less,” Sans yawned out as he trudged down the stairs after Paps. So much for sleeping in, he thought a little longingly.

Sans paused in the living room, frowning slightly at the bright and overly decorated house. He’d forgotten how much you loved this holiday, it was almost absurd, it was also just plain cute. You’d always have such big doe-eyes and a placid smile on your face as you ran about with Papyrus decorating every inch of the house in holiday-cheer. It was too much, too sweet, too precious.

You were precious to Sans.

Papyrus gripped Sans clavicle in his bony hands and gently shook Sans to his sense, “Sans, you have been very distracted lately! And do not think that I, the GREATEST brother, have not noticed this! What has been on your mind, brother?”

“ah, nothin’ is on my mind, paps, yanno how it is, nothin’ gets under my skin!” Sans winked, trying to wave off Papyrus’ unnecessary concern, which only made Papyrus more insistant.

“Is it about our dear friend, Frisk?” Papyrus prompted.

Sans tried not to start, but the sweat on the back of his skull was answer enough.

“Aha! It is about the human! They are very great, you know? Nearly as great as I am!”

“p-paps, haha, nothing could be as great as you are.” Sans supplied with a nervous laugh. Papyrus only smirked, the expression unnatural on his face.

“Will you tell them your feeling of them?” Papyrus asked, hoping beyond hope that perhaps Sans would make the first move.

“uh…” Sans was at a loss for words, he hadn’t really thought much about his own feelings for you, or if he had, he’d tried to pretend they didn’t exist. It was much easier to ignore it rather than try to acknowledge it… acknowledge you… But maybe it was time? After all these years? Maybe it was too late… maybe he’d never had a chance in the first place… But… he’d never know if he never ever tried…

For once in his life, Sans _wanted_ to try. He didn’t want to give up like he had all those timelines ago.

Papyrus seemed to sense the shift in Sans’ mood and prompted again, “Will you, brother?”

“maybe.” Sans answered finally.


	25. Mistletoe? Mistleno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //WELL MERRY CHRISTMAS//  
> ENJOY YOUR FLUFF AND ANGST AND SHIT, OK? ALSO IM SORRY FOR THE CLICHES BUT YANNO WHAT? WE ALL GOTTA DEAL WITH SHIT SOMETIMES.
> 
> On a side note! I have a blog dedicated to fanficton now where I post updates and take requests and the like!  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

The feeling of your black laced dress, somehow formfitting yet loose enough so you didn’t feel self-conscious about it. The sleeves flowed out gracefully and you couldn’t help but spin a few times just to watch as the light fabric fluidly fanned out and back in. Toriel had tied your hair back, a few strands had pulled themselves loose and hung in your face. You weren’t sure if it made you look dainty or just undone. You hoped it was the former, but you guessed it was probably the latter. Overall, you felt some semblance of confident, or at the very least not uncomfortable.

The house had been covered in decorations, somehow more than just the ones you and Toriel had placed earlier that month. You assumed that Asgore must have come with some more. They’d probably spent all of last night or even this morning setting them up.

It’d been cute, the first couple years when Toriel hadn’t known all of the festivities that had come with Christmas. She had never seen you so invested in something before. She loved to follow along with human traditions.

Once, she’d made a big deal of your birthday, which… really… despite appearances you _had_ appreciated, but she noticed the tears in your eyes and the tremble in your hands. You had to explain that your birthday didn’t have the most pleasant of memories.

She’d understood so quickly, each subsequent year was done so calmly and sweetly. But, when she saw your excitement for Christmas? She pulled all of the stops when it came to the happy holiday. She was too good for this world, it seemed. Too good for you. You loved your silly, kind goat-mother to the ends of the earth. Toriel was family.

Asgore had been much the same, although there had been awkwardness at first, what with the fact that he’d been fairly keen on killing you. You’d forgiven him pretty quickly, and with your forgiveness had followed Toriel’s own forgiveness. They may never rekindle that romantic interest they’d had previously, but they had at the very least had brought back their friendship. It was such a comfort to have a family like them.

You walked down the stairs slowly, wiggling your toes in the soft carpet with each step. You didn’t dress up often, but the sway of the soft fabric with each step made you want to jump and spin and dance just so you could observe the way the dress moved with you. You’d always been so envious of dancers, their ability to move so graceful and flowing and spontaneous compared to yourself which you felt was bumbling, clumsy, and awkward.

“Oh, my dear, you look wonderful!”

The voice rang out sweet and clear, the tone low and matronly. You flushed in happiness and touched your hand to your lips, moving the hand out in a sweeping motion to express your thanks. Words came easier to you than before, much, much easier than before. It’d been so hard as a child to speak, what with how it felt like you were choking half of the time, but with the comfort and kindness of your monster friends you had gained some semblance of control over your voice again.

You still liked to sign, and though everyone knew you _could_ talk, no one pressured you or forced you to do so. Toriel, and everyone else for that matter, understood you so well.

Asgore peered out from the kitchen, looking far cleaner than he had in the picture you’d seen earlier. Gone were the splotches of flour and batter, but instead was a thoroughly groomed-looking “kingly” presence. He had on one of those tacky Christmas sweater, a silly looking snowman on the front with the blocky letters spelling out “let it snow,” Toriel wore something similar.

“Howdy, Frisk! We have tea prepared already if you would like a cup while we finish making breakfast. You look lovely, as always, my child!” His voice was deep, rumbling, but cheery at the same time.

On the dining room table there were letters. Letters addressed to you.

You flicked through them without focusing on anything in particular and were about to toss them back down when you noticed one significantly heavier letter.

You couldn’t help the yelp that escaped your lips and the sudden shiver of apprehension down your spine. Greedily, hungrily, you tore open the envelope and held the papers in your hands with an almost reverence.

Your eyes skimmed the page, it was so wordy, but you were really only looking for a few key phrases. This paper held your future and you just had to know what it foretold. You’d applied, on a whim, to a college that was abroad—of course you’d applied to several universities that were nearby… but… it was the one abroad was the one that… for lack of a better word, tickled your fancy the most.

You _wanted_ to go there. It’d be like a new adventure, something new and beautiful and thrilling. You’d meet new people, maybe you’d change their lives, maybe they’d change yours. You’d have new experiences, new friends, new responsibilities… a new life.

That thought made you frown the smallest amount. You didn’t want a new life, per se. You wanted to be less dependent on Toriel at the very least. Less dependent on Sans and Papyrus. Asgore. Undyne, Alphys… MK, and everyone. The names could go on and on.

You felt indebted to them, and sure, maybe you’d spent the last few years of your youth helping monsters integrate with humans, maybe you’d given up any possibility of a normal life for this hazardous, spontaneous, crazy, but amazing life… You loved them and you loved how they had changed you.

 _Ah… Ah! Yes! It’s a yes… it’s a… yes?_ You couldn’t help the squeal of excitement, the little dance in your feet, and the grin on your face.

All too soon, interrupting your moment of celebration, the doorbell rang. But, before you could react to it, Toriel flew past, an excited grin on her face. She peered through the eyehole on the door before opening the door the tiniest amount. The expression on her face was pure mischief as she called out a soft “Whooo’s there?” From where you were, you couldn’t hear the response, but you could easily guess who was making the jokes if Toriel’s muffled giggles were any indicator.

The door sprung open a second later revealing a laughing Sans and an irate Papyrus. They trotted in and Sans spotted you.

For some reason the look he gave you made your stomach drop with nervousness. They say that it was supposed to feel like butterflies in your stomach when you were around your crush. You didn’t know who “they” were, but they were pretty wrong. He wasn’t exactly dressed in any fancy manner, but he was cute nonetheless, he had a different sweater on than what he’d worn the day before.

You must have been spaced out because soon he was waving a hand in your face and when you jumped back, startled, he only winked with a smirk plastered on his face, “take a picture, it lasts longer.”

You, with pursed lips, muttered in a quiet tone, “I… I didn’t mean to stare.” He just rustled your hair and walked off, hands in his pockets so casually.

The party was a boisterous affair, especially once Undyne and her girlfriend, Alphys had arrived. Alphys and you had some time to talk about nothing in particular while Papyrus and Undyne competed over everything. Literally everything. You didn’t even know hug-quality was a thing until you’d been lifted off your feet several times to be given a tight, but affectionate, squeeze.

Sans always seemed nowhere to be found at those moments.

You still clutched the acceptance letter in your hand, but, by the time dinner rolled around you had managed to sneak away and safely stow it in your room, on the nightstand by your bed. Hopefully later you’d get a chance to look more closely at what it said. Toriel was the only one who knew about the potential for you going abroad, she had to know since it would have affected both you and her and your status as an ambassador.

Somehow at dinner, instead of sitting by Toriel and Asgore like normal, you found yourself squished between an overly excited Monster Kid and a grinning Sans—though, really, when was he not grinning?

“So, Frisk, have you made any plans for what university you’re going to?” MK asked around a mouthful of food, cheeks puffed out in an almost comical manner. You could practically feel Sans tense up before he turned, whatever conversation he’d been part of having died on his nonexistent lips. Briefly you wondered what it’d be like to press your lips against his mouth.

 _“I… don’t know for sure, M K.”_ You signed, trying to rid yourself of those stray thoughts.

Sans tapped your shoulder and you glanced his way, “not tibia nosy friend, but, have you gotten any letters back?”

His smile seemed strained. You knew he didn’t like to talk about university, though, you weren’t exactly sure of the reasons. You’d known that the monsters down in the Underground had some form of an education system that was somewhat familiar to your own, and you knew that Sans and Papyrus both at one point had been a part of it, you weren’t exactly sure what they’d studied, though you knew Sans was a huge fan of science.

You weren’t sure if the reason for his disgruntled nature about college was due to his own experiences… or, a small part of you sort of… hoped that the reason was he didn’t want you to leave.

 Either way, you only shrugged in response, unsure of how to answer. You had dreams, you had plans, you had aspirations… but you were also terrified beyond belief when it came to the idea of actually acting on them.

Again you felt your nervous energy return. The idea of moving on and moving out both enticed you as much as it scared you.

You wanted to talk to Sans about it, try and get his opinion, but now was not the time. Now was the time for celebration and enjoyment. You would be damned if you let the anxieties the future presented ruin the festivities of the present.

You and Monster Kid made casual small talk, none of it very important and nothing of substance, it almost felt strained or awkward, but he didn’t seem to take notice of it. Sans was back to whatever story he’d been in the middle of, hands flying around in dramatic swoops and his voice low and rumbling but filled with excitement. You couldn’t help but be distracted by it every once in a while during the meal. You couldn’t very well just ignore MK though, so you forced yourself to pay attention to the armless monster.

“Are we ready to open presents, dearies?” Toriel’s queenly voice rang out, but the endearing term made it softer, almost motherly, rather than commanding.

It was like she had flipped a switch. The party, which had calmed down significantly in comparison to before, what with everyone sitting down and able to enjoy a few bites to eat and the company of their friends, seemed to ignite once more. Papyrus practically pushed people down in his haste to get into the living room.

This year it was yours and Sans’ turn to play “Santa’s Helper,” which basically just entailed gathering all of the presents stuffed under the tree and sorting them out to their respective owners. It was a tradition you’d always had, along with how the presents would be opened one by one so everyone got a chance to admire the gifts and properly thank the giver.

You weren’t sure who had done it, frankly, you didn’t care. You’d spent a lot of time trying to avoid embarrassment but embarrassment just seemed keen on trying to find you.

Mistletoe? No, come on, that’s such a cliché! But there it was, hanging from the ceiling, taunting you. Most humans didn’t even follow the kissing tradition of mistletoe, but monsters, determined to be the cheeriest of holiday cheerers, insisted that all traditions had to be followed… which, yes, meant that if you were unlucky enough to find yourself under the mistletoe, you’d also find yourself giving away a kiss to whoever your partner in misfortune was.

It’s how you found yourself face to face with Sans. You mean, it was bound to happen that you bumped into each other, there were a lot of gifts to sort out and hand to various monsters, but honestly, you felt fate was just a little too cruel sometimes.

It didn’t help that Undyne was the one who had called you out. Whooping something along the lines of “Ah punk, yeah, get it! Mistletoe or no, kiss that skelly-friend!” She’d proceeded then to start a chant of “kiss, kiss, kiss.”

Neither Toriel nor Asgore joined in the chanting, which you felt a swell of gratitude for, but that didn’t stop them from laughing and clapping along.

It was dumb, this was dumb, it was _just_ a kiss, nothing important, nothing special. You were just going to lean down and kiss his cheek or something. It wasn’t like you were… in love or anything with him. It wasn’t like he was your best friend who you definitely had more than just “platonic” feelings for.

You felt, in that moment, like some cheesy romantic comedy. Like your life had led down to this moment as a way of pleasing the “viewers” so they could gush and squeal and chant along with your idiotic and ridiculous friends.

 _You happy!?_ You thought with exasperation to no one in particular.

You didn’t even take in Sans’ expression, nor appreciate the blue tint on his cheek bones, or even the perspiration growing on the back of his scalp. You were too busy staring holes into the ground.

His face wore a stupid grin, somewhere between being sheepish and smug. He had a present half dangling from one hand and the other shoved in his pocket. How he could wear that oversized blue coat over a warm winter sweat in a house full of people with a fireplace going you couldn’t even imagine.

With another meek glance around at the far too encouraging entourage, you put a hand on his shoulder, stood yourself on the tips of your toes and leaned in. You were planning on placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, but it seemed like he hadn’t understood that.

His head turned, surprise on his face. Your lips touched briefly against his teeth, the feeling foreign and strange, but not necessarily unpleasant, before you sprang back, face flushed and heart pounding.

He made an odd noise, like a somewhat strangled laugh, but you didn’t get time to analyze it before the house was roaring with cheers.

You’d probably have been more embarrassed about it except for the fact that your friends did this with anyone who had the misfortune to be caught under the mistletoe.

Sans and you didn’t speak after that as you finished sorting presents. And the party itself went smoothly, or as smoothly as possible considering the kind of company you kept.

You were upstairs, in your room finally, and after the long day of excitement it felt good to just relax in the relative quiet of your bedroom. You could hear Toriel, Asgore, and Papyrus talking animatedly downstairs, their chuckles and laughs echoing up to your room.

You glanced at the letter which had been all but forgotten in the chaos of earlier and settled yourself down to read it, yet, as you struggled through the “Dear Frisk, it is our pleasure to inform you…” you couldn’t help but think of the odd texture of Sans teeth.

They were strangely smooth, yet had a certain rough quality to them unlike your smaller human teeth. Curiously, you put a tentative hand to your lips, they weren’t chapped today which was nice. They felt soft, maybe plump, you weren’t exactly sure. You’d never really taken time to just think about how your lips were… was it weird to do that? Was it weird to wonder… what had he thought? Had he been embarrassed?

Could he feel the uneven pounding of your heart in that moment? Had he felt out of breath afterward even though nothing had really happened?

A second thought occurred to you, was that his first kiss? Surely not, right? It was your first… well, maybe not exactly, you’d kissed people on their cheek’s before, but that didn’t count, right? So that had been your first kiss? It was weird. Not what you expected. Did it even count as a kiss, he didn’t even have lips, right? How could he possibly “kiss.”

You snorted with laughter, trying to picture Sans with lips.

“kiddo, you got a fever or somethin’? your face is as red as the berries on the mistletoe…” He trailed off, his brow, or where it would have been had he actually had one, crooked slightly up, as you shot up from your bed.

You were all nerves and anxiety as you stuttered out a “n-no, I-I’m fine, just thinking a-about something.”

In a flash he snatched the letter from your hand, the one that until then you’d forgotten you had even been holding it. “H-hey!” You gasped, lunging for it, but he held it out of reach, the white pupils of his eyes flicking back and forth between you and the letter.

“you… uh, well, you’re not as much of a numbskull as ya pretend to be, kiddo, you got accepted…” He was trying to sound excited, he was trying to be supportive, but he couldn’t help the burning disappointment that tainted his words. You and he… He and you… You wouldn’t be around very often if you took that school’s offer. The two of you had talked about it briefly before, the idea of university. He hadn’t said anything at the time, but the selfish parts of him wanted you to stay.

He didn’t want you to leave.

He thought back to your hesitant and accidental kiss from earlier. His soul thrummed through his bones, and the magic brought that telltale blue blush to his cheek bones. He had liked it. It had been so quick, so sweet, so innocent, just a light peck on his mouth. He hadn’t even had time to feel ashamed for not having proper lips or for the fact that you, you who was so pure and dainty and beautiful, had to kiss someone like him, him who was so tainted, violent, and impulsive.

He barely registered your shocked “what?” before you tackled him in a hug. He fell onto the ground and you followed after, landing squarely on his chest, your arms wrapped, or as wrapped as they could be, around his shoulders. You were saying something, repeating it again and again in your excitement and while sure, he liked the warmth you gave off and the tight comforting hug you were giving him, he couldn’t share in your excitement.

“Sans!” You called worriedly. You’d noticed after a moment that he didn’t seem nearly as happy as you were, and so gingerly you got up and off of him, letting your back fall against the side of your bed. “Sans… what… what do you think about me leaving? I… I haven’t decided yet… and uhm, I’m still waiting for responses from other schools…”

“Plus… I have to think about finances. See, uh, gotta see how much financial aid… I uh, get.”

“kiddo, you’re the fucking ambassador for monsters, if you ain’t getting’ in for free i just don’t understand.” You flinched at the coarse language, he never cussed when he was happy, only when he was upset or angry, which only meant one thing.

And truth be told, you’d been waiting for this. Even after you’d sent the applications out with all of your essays written and forms filled, you’d be anxious for this moment. This moment right here, where you’d talk to your best friend about the very real possibility of suddenly going from being… almost neighbors to… to miles and miles and seas apart.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t a factor in your decision, and yeah, you knew that you shouldn’t plan your life around one person, it didn’t matter if you loved that person or not, your dreams and passions should always come first… yet… you didn’t want to be away from him.

The idea was so scary.

It was intimidating.

And part of you was worried… what if he just found a new best friend? What if… he found some cute girl or guy and started to date them? Obviously the two of you weren’t dating… but, well, you wanted to… you really, really wanted to.

You were confused by his response, you’d expected him to be supportive, to be ready for anything, but this silence was weird. He’d sat up finally, legs splayed out before him and hands resting on the thighs of his black pants. He was avoiding eye contact, he seemed to be thinking about something.

“Sans?” You called, hesitantly.

You weren’t prepared for what you saw when he looked up.


	26. Don't Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Well, I hope you guys like this chapter!
> 
> On a side note! I have a blog dedicated to fanficton now where I post updates and take requests and the like!  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

His eyes were filled with a sort of affection you weren’t prepared for. You tried to breath and found it nearly impossible. He had a small and shy smile replacing his characteristic usually overly confident grin.

He was trying not to lose his nerve, trying not to hide his emotions, trying not to just wave off his feelings with his typical joking nature and easy grin. He couldn’t keep pushing this sort of thing off. He couldn’t keep lying to himself. Couldn’t keep hiding it from you.

Maybe it was Pap’s fault, he _had,_ after all, made _very_ sure that Sans was well aware of his… er… feelings for the “human”… for Frisk… for _you_. Maybe if Papyrus hadn’t pushed Sans he wouldn’t be sitting in front of you, a pleading and longing look filling his eye sockets as he prepared himself to confess. To say everything.

But, something stopped him, he couldn’t very well just say _“Frisk, I lo—“_ He couldn’t even think it without cringing internally. And if he couldn’t say… _that_ word, the next best would be ‘like’… but how lame would that be? It’d reduce him to just being a baby bones, he felt dumb for even thinking it. Him, the normally level headed and jokester skeleton unable to tell someone how he felt. _“I like you?”_ That just would not do.

Perhaps he’d been silent for too long, just drinking your appearance in, because you coughed a little awkwardly, breaking through his brief inner turmoil. He needed to snap out of it. You were obviously a little shaken and needing to vent, he just needed to be there for you.

But even when he tried, it was still difficult to be perfectly happy for you when it meant that you might up and leave them… leave… him.

“kiddo, heh, you excited?” He was trying, okay? Trying to be supportive, but the words sounded flat, even to him, and you noticed but for his sake you chose to ignore it.

“Y-yeah, I guess so…” You paused, unsure, but the longer he looked at you with those sweetly honest eyes the more you felt your worries begin to surface, you knew you could tell him anything. He wouldn’t think your fears were mundane or silly. He’d… he’d understand.

“It’s just… I’m nervous, yanno? I’m real, real nervous because I don’t know about anything when it comes to this. What if I leave and don’t make friends, what if I stay and become super lame and lonely? What if I have my heart set on something and it turns out I don’t like what I’m doing at all? People my age have lived on the surface for a whole eighteen years but I’ve only got about half of that actually spent being a part of the world, half of it in the Underground and the last half being a miserable little brat of a child who wanted to just hate everything but couldn’t hate everything because I just didn’t even know how to. Everyone’s got years and years of experience and I’m just sitting here like a… like a… uhm, worthless, stupid, uh, person, I guess… And uhm, I’m…”

You inhaled suddenly, trying to prepare yourself for your next long ramble when Sans arms slowly came around you and gently pulled you forward, clutching you to his chest.

Weakly you mumbled out, “I’m scared to leave…”

But that wasn’t it. That wasn’t your main fear, it was something else, something that made you feel so small and sad.

“I’m scared to be alone.” His grip seemed to tighten slightly before he pushed you back, studying your face curiously.

“How can I just abandon all of the people who… who made me actually want to _have_ a future…” a bitter sigh fell from your lips, “but I feel like such a burden on you guys.”

“don’t go. please… don’t go.”

You looked up in surprise, not expecting the sincerity of his tone. There was raw emotion in his voice, it was entirely too disarming and it made your pulse race, but then he had to go and ruin it with a goofy grin, “heh… ‘sides, kiddo, you’d be bonely without me.” You sighed in exasperation.

“Oh, come on, we were havin’ a moment and you go and ruin it with the weakest pun I’ve ever heard. At least put effort into your… punnery.”

He snorted in disbelief, “ah, shut up, kiddo, you know you love me.” The words slipped easily from his mouth—he was already beginning to cover up his moment of vulnerability with his impersonal and joking façade.

“I’d sell you to Satan for one corn chip,” you bit back easily, but behind the scornful tone was a delighted smile.

“heh, you are… you are just so heartless,” he sighed dramatically, moving his hand from your shoulder to drape it pathetically over his forehead.

“Technically you’re the heartless one.” He scoffed at that, acting offended but you only smirked, feeling lighter after telling him some of your burden.

The back and forth banter came so easily, yet it was like nothing ever before. There was something hanging between the two of you, unspoken but still there, tangible to the both of you. A line had been crossed today, several, in fact.

It was no small thing that the two of you had kissed, and sure, maybe it had only happened because of a silly tradition and was definitely not serious by any means… yet… it _had_ happened. You guys had held hands before, he’d kissed your forehead gently on many occasions, hell, the two of you had spent nights together—not doing anything, obviously, but still, the truth of it was that those were all done in a platonic sense.

But the kiss. It felt different.

And what about just a moment ago? He had let you see a side of him that was so new and tender and different.

As long as you’d been friends, there’d been no romantic implications (though you’d always wished there had been, god, what you would have given to know what was on his mind). And, well, kisses could be platonic too. Maybe to him the kiss had been nothing more than just that… a simple… friendly… kiss. You realized that you were trying too hard to reason this out. You were trying too hard to deny yourself any source of happiness.

The look in his eyes. The small touches. The kiss. The whispered words and comforting moments between you guys… Was it more than just “best friends?” You didn’t know. You wanted to find out.

It made you feel a little guilty. By wanting more were you undermining your friendship? You didn’t want to take it for granted. You didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good friendship just because you had feelings that, ah, differed from his.

Though, to be honest, you weren’t so sure that your feelings for him were all that different than his toward you…

The conversation had died down some and the two of you now sat side by side. He had his hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin. You were leaned against him, his blue jacket buffering some of the sharp, hardness of his bones.

You felt a shift in the air, a sudden low hum emanated from Sans, yet it wasn’t like anything you’d known… not like anything you’d known from this timeline at least. That thought gave you chills. You cautiously tilted your chin upward so you could look at him. He was grinning down at you, his left eye tinted blue, though sometimes you swear you could see a flicker of yellow.

“oops, lookie there, frisk.” His eyes were aglow with mischief; you didn’t quite understand until you looked up to see a familiar plant wrapped up in his magic. Mistletoe…?

It dawned upon you suddenly.

Oh… _oh._

“still got some christmas spirit for me?”

“ _Fuck you, sansta._ ” You muttered, your face flushing slightly. You lifted your face to his and he blinked in surprise. Maybe this wouldn’t be the heartfelt confession you wanted, but, well, you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Besides… you’d waited this long… why not have a little fun with it?

He couldn’t suppress the shivers that crawled down his spine as suddenly you were up and over him. He still had a few inches on you, even slumped over and sitting, but he felt rather small and shy with you straddling his lap.

You, on the other hand, felt so tiny right now, his body was so much bigger than yours and you’d never even realized. Your thighs strained from the effort of keeping you up, because although a sudden boldness had taken you over, you were still conscious of your weight… you didn’t want to just sit upon him. Compromising position or no, you weren’t _that_ bold, not yet anyway.

You leaned closer and closer; your breathe was hot against his face. In something akin to a purr, you whispered to the side of his now sweating skull, “betcha’d like me to kiss ya right now, yeah?”

If he’d had a heart it would have burst by now, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t like to admit the fact that he had definitely envisioned this sort of scenario on multiple occasions. He didn’t want to acknowledge that the mistletoe he’d waved in front of you with such charm and confidence was now barely held up by his magic.

His magic was stuttering just as much as his soul was positively vibrating with nervousness. His cheekbones were dusted in a deep cyan blue and he couldn’t help but relish in the heat that came off of you, nor the softness of your legs that were pressed against his own, or the sweetness of your breath and teasing words that tickled the back of his neck.

He tried not to jump when he felt an entirely new sensation.

You trailed your tongue along his jawbone, before peppering small kisses on the other side. His sharp intake of breath spurred you on and soon you found yourself kissing his mouth. It was different than the sweet and innocent kiss of before. There was more heat in it, more passion. It was less… unsure. More wanting.

He tilted his head down, his magic sparking slightly against your lips as the kiss deepened. This was so surreal, and he wasn’t quite sure how it’d gotten to this point. He sure wasn’t complaining, though.

The two of you broke apart, faces flushed.

“well,” he started, but you gave him a silencing look.

“Sans, I just want to pretend for a moment that… you’re not like… going to regret this or something…” You closed your eyes, moving yourself from his lap, “So, no jokes, okay?”

He blinked at you, a confusion you couldn’t see in his eyes.

“knock knock.”

You huffed with annoyance, but responded despite your better judgement, “who’s there?”

“olive.”

 _Olive? The fuck?_ You glanced at him, but he was determinedly staring anywhere but you.

You rolled your eyes, _fine_ , you thought begrudgingly, _I’ll play along,_ “olive who?”

He seemed to be breathing harder than normal, not that he even needed to breath in the first place.

“olive you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN HOPING FOR)


	27. Sore For the Wrong Reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im tired but here is a chapter that was supposed to go up a few days ago, sorry for the wait/// dont worry though, i have a plan for the next few chapters at least///
> 
> On a side note! I have a blog dedicated to fanficton now where I post updates and take requests and the like!  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

“I—“

“Uh—“

“What?”

You couldn’t think very clearly, and your heart was currently trying to escape your chest and your breathing was haphazard at best. Were you even breathing? You couldn’t be sure, but you hadn’t passed out yet so really, your body was _probably_ , somehow, taking care of things.

Then another thought struck you.

You groaned down into your hands, your face flushed between a mix of flustered nervousness and second-hand embarrassment. You didn’t even bother to look up at what would probably be a shit-eating grin.

“Did you just use a fucking pun to confess your feelings?”

“yep.”

“God, Sans.”

“heh, sorry, no bones about it, couldn’t help myself.” You snorted in disbelief. You wanted to look up at the high heavens in case there was someone listening and ask with as much scorn as you could muster, ‘why am I in love with this bag of bones, again?’ Of course, no one would answer you—you couldn’t even answer the question properly yourself.

“For what it’s worth…” You were about to return the sentiment, but another thought occurred to you, “wait, how long have you been waiting to use that?”

It was his turn to feel awkward, and he couldn’t hide the flush that covered half of his face, thankfully for him you hadn’t managed to recover enough to look up at him. He could only imagine what kind of bullshit teasing you’d be doing if you could see how truly embarrassed he was.

“ah, you know, not.. uhm, _that_ long…” He was trying to sound confident, trying to hold on to his sudden boldness of just moments ago, but it had obviously been a very fleeting self-assurance and already he was wondering if perhaps those words, those feelings, the cheesy joke, had been better left unsaid.

You couldn’t help but snort in response, he wasn’t a very good liar, you decided. But the fact that he was just as flustered about this as you were only made your heart sing in happiness.

You were positively elated. If you were alone you’d probably be squealing and dancing about in glee. Of course, well, you could dance around and be foolish with your joy, but you had an ounce of pride plus you knew he’d never let you live it down. So instead, trying to remain cool, you smirked up at him, for once taking in the semi-worried look his eyes and the blush on his face, before mumbling ever-so-casually, “for what it’s worth… I feel the same way.”

Regret hit you immediately though, you hadn’t though that his grin could get much more mocking or obnoxious—of course, you’d also thought there was no way he had feelings for you—he was proving you wrong left and right. It made his teasing words just a little easier to take.

“i see, kiddo, i mean, it’s pretty obvious you want to jump my bones.”

Your hand twitched slightly, but you reigned in the impulse to smack that stupid grin from his face.

“Okay, bone boy, I mean, obviously you were just hopin’ I would ‘jump your bones’… though… mistletoe, really? C’mon little man, I’m expecting to be wooed here and you’re just going for the clichés, aren’t ya?” You couldn’t hide the bright smile from your face, but the words came out in a shrewd drawl. His fading blush returned full force as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“little man?” he scoffed incredulously, “i’m a foot taller than you.”

“That’s nothing to be proud of, Sans, I’m impossibly short.”

“don’t get short with me.”

“Too late,” you snorted and he couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer.

You felt so happy in that moment. You felt so incredibly happy. Your soul was bright and beautiful but even more so, the smile on your face, the rosy tint to your cheeks, the shine in your eyes, and the tantalizing ring of your laughs—it was intoxicating for Sans to watch you. This bubbling happy feeling was so nice in contrast to the jealousy, angst, the feeling of inadequacy. And you, you who was so kind and patient and sweet, you who was funny and awkward and silly and cute, you had kissed him, no? You had admitted to feeling the same way he did.

You could have lived in that moment forever. The cuddling, the kisses, the whispered jokes, the affectionate glances, all of it. You could have lived the rest of your life in that sweet embrace.

The thing about happiness though is that there is always an expiration date.

Okay, so perhaps that was dramatic, it wasn’t like the world had ended or anything. It was just a slightly sore throat that turned into a burningly achingly hurting throat that turned into a fever combined with a lovely and festering clamminess that seemed to focus itself in your grossly shaking hands. So, yeah, you felt like shit, but it was fine. Totally fine. Nothing was wrong.

Except for the fact that many things were wrong. Firstly, there had been a few disappearances occurring. They typically happened in the cities that held the most monsters. So, naturally, many people blamed the magic filled creatures.

Secondly, Sans had gotten ridiculously busy with work and you almost never saw him, and when you did manage to spend time with him? He was usually in a foul mood.

Thirdly, you were sick. You felt gross. You felt stressed. You were tired. Tired of all the god damn people and their noisy problems and the fact that your blanket was too harsh on your sensitive skin and the way the fabric of your shirt didn’t sit perfectly on you like it normally did and that the announcer on the news was a pretty blonde lady with too bright eyes and a too cheerful voice as she talked—more like gossiped—about the missing humans and the potential suspects.

So here you lay in bed, hot and heavy laptop—not the kind of hot and heavy you wanted—sitting on top of the too warm but not warm enough blankets that covered your legs. Your breathing was so loud and stuffy and your felt like it was filled with cotton.

Nothing about this was comfortable, but you needed to stop focusing on that.

You had to solve issues with the public, not dwell on your own temporary unhappiness. (Though, when you’ve spent a week being uncomfortably sick, it was hard to remember that the illness was only temporary.)

The keys clicked in such a satisfying way as your fingers flew across the board, you were working on the first draft of a speech that was meant to be given later that week at a press conference discussing the disappearances.

You were trying your best not to sound irritated or condescending in your writing, but it was so hard. How could you explain to a bunch of close minded people that disappearances happened all the time and it was most definitely not the monsters’ fault (unless it was, and then that’d be a whole other slew of problems, best not to think about that though) regardless of how “scary” they looked? Plus, half the time humans had issues it was because of other humans, so really, stop using the odd-species-out as a scapegoat.

You sighed. Toriel promised she’d help you with your word choice later, and you knew she’d be disappointed with your frustration. After all, she wanted a speech that emphasized kindness and understanding, not one that said ‘look you mother fuckers it’s not our fault’.

She would not be impressed.

You weren’t even impressed.

Since when had you started cursing so much?

Your head was pounding, no more work could get done. Maybe you could nap? Yeah. A nap sounded good.

You were going. Going. Gone.

You fluttered your eyes groggily, and moved your hand to rub away the grit that had collected in the corner of your eye lids. A boney hand was stroking your damp and messy hair and there was the enticing smell of soup filling the room. It took you a minute to be able to focus on the being in front of you, but when you managed to actually see who was visiting a lazy smile sprang to your lips.

He grinned back, “hey babe,” his face flushed slightly at his use of the pet name but he continued talking all the same, “you doing ok? i brought some of tori’s soup… hopefully it’ll help you feel soup-er.” He winked cheekily and you merely chuckled.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be fully awake, nor could you make yourself sit up properly to take the food. He was about to set it on the night stand next to you, noticing how tired you were, but the rumbling sound of your stomach made him stop.

You gave a sheepish smile and he only laughed before helping you to sit a little straighter. Your hands were shaky and your face flushed, though whether it was from happiness or your fever, you weren’t sure.

You were still in a state of dazed grogginess and he seemed to understand that. You obviously weren’t functioning at one hundred percent.

You were staring at him but not quite staring at him, it was almost like you were staring through him. Your mind was quickly slipping off into space and your eyes were beginning to droop again.

“kiddo, you gotta eat somethin’, ok? tori says ya haven’t eaten anything for the past day or so, you gotta be pretty hungry, right?”

You nodded almost imperceptibly. He sighed before dipping the spoon into the waiting soup and bringing it slowly to your lips.

You hadn’t realized quite how starving you’d been until the food was being waved tantalizingly in front of your face. You didn’t even have time to be embarrassed before opening your mouth obediently and allowing him to spoon feed you.

He could only smile down at you.

This week had been hell for him and he guessed, based on your current condition, that it hadn’t been any better for you either. He wished he’d been around a little bit more the past week maybe then he would have noticed all the signs of you getting sick—it hadn’t been until he’d gotten a very distressing call from Toriel that he realized how much you’d been overworking yourself.

The day after the semi-confession and shared kisses, the news had told of the potential kidnapping of a young girl in a neighborhood that mostly housed monsters. People were uneasy at that, but dismissed the location as correlation rather than causation—meaning that, just because it happened in a mostly monster neighborhood didn’t mean that it had happened _because_ of the monsters. Though, now, with six more humans gone and missing, it was something that couldn’t be ignored.

One had been taken for every day of the week, and he could only imagine what kind of fear and anger this sort of event would be sparking. He’d already gotten glimpses of some of the unrest while at work. People shot him dirty glances or muttered insults just within his earshot. He’d wanted to react, he’d wanted nothing more than to get angry because after all, this was all of your hard work going to waste, but he knew what you’d say—‘don’t prove them right.’ And as annoying as that phrase was, it worked to keep him in his place.

But now it was nearing day eight and people were getting more and more freaked out and you were lying in bed sick because you’d over worked yourself. He didn’t care if more humans got taken, he didn’t care if monsters were getting the blame—after all, monsters had always gotten the short end of stick—but, he did care that you were working yourself down to the bone (now was not the time for puns, he chided).

You’d freed monsters from the mountain, you’d helped them so much by that one action, why did you feel the need to continue doing work for them? For him? Why couldn’t someone else do it? He didn’t want you to keep struggling over these things. He didn’t want you to keep bearing the brunt of the responsibility when it came to monster kind.

Plus, whenever you’d gone out to meet with others or appear in public, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly nervous. He couldn’t help the way his soul thrummed with discomfort when he saw you on the television talking to the press. It felt so unsafe. He’d heard what people said behind your back—he heard what those same people who hated on him said about you.

He just didn’t want you to be in danger.

He felt like this job was going to be the death of you. Or him. Or both of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sick and i feel gross and i apologize if this hasnt been read through yet but i have a massive headache and not the patience to edit this quite yet, tomorrow morning i will, i promise//


	28. Lovely Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i havent edited this but it's been a few days since i've updated so here, have a basic and short chapter that furthers plot and has a little bit of fluff//// also sorry for lameness///

You still felt pretty gross, but you couldn’t mope any longer—work was calling you. And by that, it was quite literally calling you.

You groaned as the sudden ringing of your phone woke you from your sleep. You blinked blearily at the glowing screen for far too long before you could actually process what you were seeing. The number wasn’t saved as a contact, but you recognized it. The chief of the local police?

You were too slow to react and you missed the call. Frowning, you glanced at the time, it was about six in the morning. Why would he call you so early? It couldn’t be anything good.

“somethin’ wrong, babe?”

He gently wrapped his skeletal hands around your waist and nuzzled his face into the back of your neck. A light pink flush crept up your face but you let yourself lean into his hold. For a moment you were confused why he had stayed the night before memories of the news came flooding back.

The first kid napping victim had been found.

But it was far too late. Far too late for them, and you were beginning to suspect it was going to be far too late for the others.

The police chief had called you in order to talk to both you and Asgore, who unofficially still had reign over monster kind. She’d wanted the two of you to come by and see the crime—the victim apparently had been attacked by something inhuman, or at least that was what it looked like. It felt like there was some kind of trick in it, but you couldn’t figure it out.

You couldn’t very well say no to her, so you did end up heading over and having a rather long meeting with her and a few of the investigators who were still searching for the other missing victims. They’d hit a wall up until this sudden discovery, and as you answered questions, and asked a few of your own. You began to feel a thick sense of dread. Something wasn’t right about this.

It wasn’t until you were looking at picture of the crime scene and the victim that you’d figure out what was bothering you. It could have been nothing, it could have been just a coincidence, but it just didn’t seem like one.

It wasn’t much but it was enough for you to know—or to at least have an inkling.

A fallen flower pot and a few stray yellow petals were near the person’s body where it’d been discovered in the abandoned warehouse.

You wanted to be sick, sicker than you already were. You’d felt cold inside when you first saw those photos. It could just be coincidence, you hoped it was just a coincidence. There was no reason _he_ would be attacking humans now, not after all these years, all that time. But, could it be?

No, right? But, who else? Why? It didn’t make sense. It made too much sense. Again, the flood of questions and doubts clouded your mind.

Sans could feel you tense up, your shoulders hunched as you were lost to whatever it was you had been thinking about. He’d remembered how upset you were when you’d come home.

He wasn’t the softest of hearts, nor was he the most openly caring when it came to emotions—not that he didn’t feel sympathetic or empathetic, it was just that there was almost always far too much effort to try and help someone like that. Far too much work and usually just made them angry with you for interfering.

But you. The uncharacteristic frown you were sporting coupled with the unshed tears in your eyes. He’d come to you the instant you’d walked into his home. Apparently you’d come straight to him from the meeting and while part of him felt a special warmth that you needed him, the rest of him was just concerned for your emotional state.

He just didn’t want you to disappear. He didn’t want you to leave.

When he’d first learned about the cutting he was scared, for you, for him, for the timeline. He was scared that you were going to take it one step further, he was so worried for the day you gave up and decided this world wasn’t enough. He knew you wouldn’t reset… but the alternative was so much worse.

He knew the darkest parts of your soul, he’d never said as much, it wasn’t his place just yet. He wasn’t going to call you out on the deepest depths, the ones that you tried so hard to hide. It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be watching out, though. He’d always keep an eye socket out for you.

You’d come into the house and if he called on a small part of his magic he could see the dimness of your normally burningly bright soul. Papyrus was in the kitchen at the time, cooking lasagna or something, and you looked about ready to break.

He’d scooped you up into his arms like you weighed nothing, and really, you were ever so light compared to him, and ever so casually opened a shortcut to his room. It was there that the two of you stayed the rest of the evening and night. He hadn’t exactly planned on your falling asleep in his arms, but he definitely wasn’t going to complain.

He loved the softness of your skin, the suppleness and curve of your hips and waist when you lay curled into him. Your warmth was so different from his own and you were so precious and he felt the need to be extremely gentle with you. Ah, and your hair, your smell. You smelled so… it was indescribable in a way—it wasn’t perfume, though you did smell good with those on too, but you smelled like sunshine… like the air just after it rains… like warmth and happiness. You smelled like you. And to him that was everything, you were perfection.

He just wanted to protect your perfection.

Your voice brought him from his musing as you stared down at the phone’s screen, “Should I call back?”

He felt the stirrings of anger, but set that feeling aside to nonchalantly reply a short, “nah.” He didn’t see how any of this was your responsibility and was frustrated that you were getting involved in the case. Since he’d heard news of the first major disappearance he’d had ill feelings about the whole deal.

There was some connection between the people being taken, but he couldn’t quite figure it out, it just had to be something so obvious, yet why couldn’t he see it?

“Sans?” You sounded so small and fragile, your tone making him huge your to his chest all the tighter.

“yeah?”

“I think I want to go visit…” you paused, unsure of how he would take the news. You decided to back up and explain, “one of the photos of the crime scene, well, some of it points to… a… uh… certain old… er… friend… and I would like to go visit them and ask them some questions, you know?”

You couldn’t see his face, and for that you were glad, but you could feel his skeletal fingers as they stiffened and dug into the flesh on your hips.

“who is this friend?”

“Uhm, a… uh… it’s Flowey…” you whispered out, eyes closed as though you could block out what you were sure would be his outraged reaction. He didn’t know a lot of the pesky flower, though the two of you had discussed the small yellow flower menace, and he knew enough to be immediately on guard.

“no, absolutely not.” His tone was very measured and no nonsense which was unusual for the jokester.

“I don’t have to go alone, I could uh, get someone to come along, and we… I… I will be just fi—“

“no.”

“Sans, come on, it’s a matter of life or death for these people, and when I brought it up the chief of police she disregarded the idea. She basically mocked me, saying all this stuff about how they’ve sent people down into Ebott and there is no such thing as a grinning and evil flower hanging around down there. And… and… I don’t want anyone to get hurt, it’d be best if I went, okay?”

“no. i can’t… frisk, i don’t want _you_ to get hurt.”

You couldn’t help the frustration that seeped into your next words, “I don’t CARE about ME! Don’t you understand that?”

In an instance he moved and you suddenly found yourself face to face with him, legs wrapped around his torso. You’d never know how he always managed to be so quick about things like that. Your frustration outweighed your embarrassment from the compromising position. His eyes were hard and his skeletal face was devoid of any emotion.

His tone sounded strangely strained, like it was going to break at any moment, “i care.”

“i… er… i love you.”

Your heart was thudding and stuttering its disbelief in your chest and you could barely breathe. Somehow the sincerity of his words and the phrase itself left you feeling warm and happy and bright, making you forget for a brief moment all of the worries from the week.

That was the first time he’d said it to you. Before, when he’d confessed, he’d just used a silly pun, and all of the times after that the two of you danced around the words, not willing to be the first to say it.

His love for you strengthened your resolve.

“I… That’s why I need to do this. I… I love… I love you--well, I mean, I love everyone, I want to protect them… I don’t want everyone to be hated for something they did not do… So that’s why I have to, okay? I…” Your voice was losing strength, but the concern you saw in his white and shinning pupils filled you with determination.

With shaking hands, you signed, your fist with a pinky extended taping lightly across your chest before you moved both arms and hugged them in an x to your chest before moving to point at him. There were a few short ways to say ‘I love you’ in sign language, but this one was the one that meant the most to you. It’d been the way you would greet your grandmother and how you expressed all of your affection for her.

He cocked his head at you, so carefully you explained by spelling it out with your hands, _“I love you.”_

A blue flush appeared suddenly on his cheeks and he pulled you forward into him with a sort of urgency you hadn’t been expecting. Your lips met the bones of his mouth with such passion and you could feel a spark of energy from it. Surprised, you glanced up at him, breaking away, with wide eyes. There was a smirk on his face and you could see a faint light coming from his left eye. Normally that side would frighten you, but at this moment, it was so dreadfully attractive.

You leaned in once more to kiss him and he tilted your head in order to deepen the kiss. Your soft lips moved against the smooth hardness of his teeth and he played his magic across the slight opening of your mouth making you gasp from the sensation. It felt like ages, but was probably not even minutes before the two of you broke apart, faces covered in a deep blush and lungs panting heavily.

He wrapped his arms around you again, and you leaned your chin on his shoulder.

“please, just stay here… it’s not your responsibility.”

You disagreed, but didn’t say anything. You would save them from further hatred. You’d put monster kind’s name in the clear. These thoughts filled you with determination.


	29. Baby Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhHHH i have a lot of inspiration suddenly and i'm already working on finishing up chapter 30///
> 
> On a side note! I have a blog dedicated to fanficton now where I post updates and take requests and the like!  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come next. Sure, talking to Sans had always just come so easy and natural, talking to Toriel was gradually becoming easier, and everyone else was understanding of your continued use of sign language. You were feeling more confident, but occasionally the sign language was an easier method of communication—a more comforting way to talk.

But this was important. This had to be done.

You hadn’t actually talked to Sans much about Alex after that initial little date, and the events that transpired after had come so quickly it hadn’t seemed like there was any real reason to talk about it—not that you weren’t curious sometimes.

That wasn’t to say you and Alex had stopped talking, though. And, you were pleased to discover, he was actually really nice to talk to. He’d been a ready friend and messaged you the moment he’d heard about the first disappearance.

It had started the two of you to discussing your job, the monsters, and how much stress you were under. He’d said he would do anything he could to help.

You hoped that _this_ counted as anything.

He’d already even texted you this morning, after hearing on the news, about the first death of the first victim of the recent kidnappings. He had offered to stop by with some food and his support, but you’d been busy with Sans.

As far as the investigation went, there’d been no further breakthroughs on your part or theirs and it left all of you dead in the water, waiting for this mysterious enemy’s next move.

You couldn’t keep sitting and biding your time though. Grillby had contacted Sans for help the other day, explaining that one of the nearby monster-run stores had been vandalized. Humans were retaliating because of all the blame being pushed to monsters.

Thankfully, no one had been hurt, but it had been a wakeup call for you and him both. He made sure to check in on you every day, he was so sure that you would get attacked next, and you, on the other hand, began formulating a plan.

If Sans wouldn’t help you. You’d just have to help yourself.

With that final thought you tightly gripped your cellphone in your hand and dialed in a familiar number before, with a moment of hesitation and a deep sigh of resignation, pressed call.

It rang. It rang. It rang.

“Hello?” The voice was masculine and comforting, though it had been a while since you’d heard it.

“H-hi, Alex.” You whispered into the receiver, not yet quite comfortable enough to speak fully.

His tone was complete and utter disbelief and had the situation been different you might have found it funny, “Wha- shit, Frisk? You can talk?”

Impatiently you plowed forward, “Y-yeah, that’s not important, uhm, do, you, uhm, you can drive, right?”

“Yeah…” You could hear the confusion on his tone, he seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say. After a moment’s pause you heard a worried, “why?”

“I… want… I want to… I want to go back to the mountain—to Ebott.” Your words gained strength as you continued on, and though your heart was fluttering with nerves, you were okay. You felt strong enough to do this. Strong enough to confront the mountain and all of its good and bad memories, confront the ghosts of the past.

He agreed and the two of you made plans to head out later that day. He wanted an explanation but acquiesced once he’d realized you had other things to do—he knew you’d tell him more once he came by to pick you up.

The trip would take a full day, and as you bounded down the stairs of yours and Toriel’s small home you searched your brain for a suitable excuse as to why you were leaving and would probably be gone for quite a while.

It turned out to be unnecessary when you stumbled across the note taped to the table. Apparently Toriel was going out of town for the next day or so, something about planning a peace rally and protest against the recent threats against monsters. Briefly you were disappointed she hadn’t asked you to come, but you reasoned that she didn’t want you to be more stressed out considering you’d just recovered from your cold.

You shot a text to Sans just stating ‘going out,’ before grabbing a bag and putting some basic food and supplies in there. The Underground was large and you weren’t entirely sure that it would be the lively population it had been—meaning you needed to prep your own supplies and the like. Sure, there were a few monster families who had opted to stay under the mountain, but as the years had gone on most families had left, which meant the mountain was empty and devoid of life—at least, you assumed so.

A few minutes later you heard the crunch of tires on gravel and headed outside with your bag in tow.

It was nice to see his smiling, albeit a little worried, face and you gave a hesitant wave. It was now or never.

With the sun now setting behind you, the two of you drove, heading onto the freeway. At the rate you were going you’d hopefully be able to make it an hour or so before nightfall. The light would help to guide you into the cavern.

“You okay?” You nodded, not trusting your voice in that moment, and knowing he wasn’t about to stop driving just to watch you write responses. He seemed to take that as answer enough.

The drive was mostly quiet, and for parts of it you dozed off. He pulled to a stop in the all too familiar deteriorating parking lot at the base of Mount Ebott. It used to be for tourists, but because of the mountain’s lore many people found it too dangerous, and now that the monsters were above ground the mountain had been deemed rather… uninteresting for thrill seekers.

You however were not here for that sort of thing.

The climb up was odd. It was the most intense feeling of déjà vu you’d ever experienced, and though you’d requested for Alex to stay behind, he’d insisted on at least making sure you made it to the opening safely. You weren’t going up to where you’d fallen, figuring that’d be too dangerous and it’d be a little more than just a shame if you were to die, but rather heading to the place where the barrier first broke and you’d been able to… live again…

Those first moments had been so overwhelming, so many worries, so many feelings, so many… so much of everything had been flooding you at that moment. The beauty of that sky, the burning and bright sun, the tall and towering trees that swayed ever so slightly from the wind’s gentle touch, and most importantly… most wonderfully… the look of pure and unadulterated awe that you’d seen on your friend’s face in that moment.

The brightness of their eyes—you couldn’t see souls like monsters could, but it was almost as if you could. You could see their magic, their souls, their happiness—you could see the bright orange of Papyrus’ excitement, the glaring and powerful blue of Sans, the gentle pink that was Alphys, Undyne’s vivid and light blue aura, one that matched the baby blue sky, and Asgore’s own dark red which seemed sad, relieved, excited, and hopeful all at once.

Your heart squeezed mournfully as you thought back to before, as you thought back to the first timeline—was there even a first timeline? Or had this been happening for ages upon ages? Was it still happening in some other universe? Those kind of thoughts made your head swim. Your mother… she wasn’t your mother, she was just the woman who’d unwillingly brought you to life.

You didn’t want to be bitter about the way things turned out, and for the most part you weren’t, if anything you were just wistful—as though you wished that somewhere, somehow, the woman who’d proclaimed her hate for you in both actions and words would find that deep down… she had remorse… she had love for you. You wished that she could have had the same love for you that your friends had.

That sort of pure love and sweet, gentle caring didn’t come without a price though—so maybe your mother was that price. Maybe your family was the price.

As you walked in silence, the sound of Alex’s footfalls echoing your own, the sight of your hometown off in the distance brought you back those forgotten feelings of unhappiness. Your life wasn’t perfect now, and sure, you felt depressed, you felt worried, you felt anxious—you were all of those things, but at the same time you weren’t, you were you and you were able to exist with or without those trademarks. They didn’t define you, but you hadn’t learned that until recently.

You never would have learned it if you’d stayed in that home with that toxic woman. Some might think running away is cowardly, but you knew better. Gathering the courage to run was one of the bravest things anyone could do. It’d taken you so long to come to terms with these ideas—the thought that you weren’t at fault, that you weren’t in control all the time.

They were difficult things to process and accept, but they were so important to remember. You held this knowledge tightly in your heart as your mind wandered back to the broken woman who’d attempted to raise you all those years ago.

She was the one who’d pushed you up and on to this mountain—essentially, she was the catalyst that had brought you up here. Her abuse, her hatred, her violence, her intoxication, her. Just her. She was the one that had made you give up. She’d made you want to stop. Just stop everything.

It was her fault you’d gone to the mountain with the wish that you would find your end.

And… in a way, though not the end you’d expected nor the one you’d initially wanted, you’d found your ending. You were here, right now, in this moment, despite everything else. You were alive and with friends who loved you beyond anything else—even if it didn’t feel like it all of the time.

Alex’s hand found its way to your shoulder as you reached the top of the cliff, the gaping maw of the cave looked both inviting and intimidating. You glanced back at him, a question in your eyes, and he smiled at you reassuringly.

“Call me when you are done, okay? Stay safe, Frisk.” You nodded, determination on your face, as you took your first steps back into the Underground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (on the downside, because i'm posting these quickly, i'm not editing as thoroughly as i would normally, please forgive me, i'll go back and edit them soon)
> 
> Shameless Tumblr Plug:  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)


	30. Love Your LOVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again/// i didn't get time to edit this fully/// but i fEEL VERY MOTIVATED TO WRITE///
> 
> On a side note! I have a blog dedicated to fanficton now where I post updates and take requests and the like!  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

The first thing you noticed was how eerily dark everything was. There were patches of light that filtered in from parts of the ceiling that had fallen down when the barrier had broken, but most everything was cast into darkness. The stone was that odd purple color you remembered, and the floor, though covered in dust and debris, was mostly intact and as elegant looking as ever.

Your heart was trying to beat its pitiful way out of your chest as you moved into the next room. It was so odd to you, this whole thing was so oddly poetic—here you were, years later, returning to your beginning in order to find an ending.

The judgement hall gave you shivers and you paused for a moment in the doorway. Your body was reacting to the area in a way you weren’t used to. Part of you felt a sick sense of excitement and you could feel your muscles tense as though ready to spring, dodge, roll, attack at any moment, while the majority of you just felt a sense of uneasiness and dread.

Softly, almost so softly you didn’t catch what was said, a familiar and at the same time unfamiliar voice called out _“I thought you were done playing with us?”_

It sounded both like a child and an adult—it sounded human and inhuman. Your eyes darted around the hall nervously before you called out tentatively, “who’s there?”

The voice snickered, and again, you couldn’t tell where it was coming from nor who it was.

You took a deep breath and took one trembling step into the judgement hall before calling out once more, a little louder this time, “who is there?”

The voice was silent.

You tread ever so carefully through the hall, and though you knew it was empty, you swore you could see flickers of blue magic and splashes of red—splashes of your blood. A sound echoed out behind you and you stopped in the middle of the hall before turning around to see… nothing. Yet everything.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move, fear had you in its clutches and you had no escape. He stood there before you with his wicked smile and sinister face—if you looked closely you could see a hint of remorse in his eyes, but not before it was covered up by the indifference you were used to seeing in his empty eyes.

You stared and he stared and he laughed, his short bark of a laugh, the little “heh” making your stomach twist not with love but with LOVE and before you could react he was reaching out and out and out.

Suddenly your body was flying, it hurt, what was happening? Your blood was coming up from your lungs, dribbling down your chin, your chest had been pierced through with a bone and he stood there with that frustratingly smug look. You didn’t feel anything but anger—you wanted him gone. He was going to suffer. Everyone was going to suffer. There would be hell to pay.

You blinked and gasped and stuttered back into the present moment, finally noticing that the judgement hall was long since abandoned and there was no Sans, there was no you-that-wasn’t-you. There was no fight. There was no blood.

You had no LOVE.

You only had love.

Your phone was lying on the ground beside your hunched over body, your knees digging painfully into the hard rock flooring. The screen looked cracked, but the phone was otherwise unharmed. It took you a few minutes of panting and gasping for air before you were able to slow your racing pulse and calm your thundering heart. It hadn’t been real, you tried to reason, it was just a memory, just a memory of a different Sans and a different you.

You waited until you felt ready. You stood on shaky legs, picked up your phone and pocketed it quickly before turning and leaving the dreaded judgement hall.

Like so many runs before, the dull, gray halls were silent and eerie, the only noise coming from each of your footsteps which echoed so loudly against the harsh quiet. It was such a contrast from the airy and vivid coloring found in the golden and ornate judgement hall.

This was going to be a long walk.

The elevator was ungodly long and you tried not to be impatient as you stood, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as the whirring of the machine broke up the monotony of the otherwise dead and silent Underground.

It reminded you of those timelines you’d had no control. The ones where monsters would run in fear when you approached. Where your name was like a curse and there was dust in the air and hate in your soul—the soul that wasn’t even yours anymore.

You shuddered, trying to block out those stray thoughts, as you continued to wait for the elevator to stop.

Just as the little ding sounded, signifying that you had arrived, an equally as quiet voice spoke up, _“Do you want to play a game?”_

You couldn’t stop the small noise of fear that escape your lips, though you tried not to let how scared you were show on your face. Rather than calling out again you began to run, your bag that had been strapped over your shoulder now bouncing uncomfortably against your hip as you pushed your legs to move faster and faster.

Your lungs were burning by the time you’d made it down to the now abandoned MTT Resort. You could see inside there was a faintly flickering light, but it didn’t seem like there was all that much else working.

The automatic doors did not open automatically and you heaved a sigh of disappointment before pushing against the glass door in an attempt to get it to move. When you were able to wedge your hand in between the two doors it became much easier to slide them open. The fountain was barely flowing now, though at least it wasn’t splashing on the floor anymore, so really that was actually an improvement.

Quickly, you pulled your slightly beaten up phone out of your pocket to check the time. Maybe… maybe it’d be a good idea to sleep. One of these rooms had to be open, after all.

Luck was on your side and you managed to find a semi-clean room with a decent-enough bed.

Morning, or at least you assumed it was morning, it was always a struggle to tell when you were under an entire fucking mountain. A quick glance at the time told it was just a bit before six in the morning, you shrugged, deciding that it was time to move on—after all, if you wanted to make it out before Sans or Toriel got worried, you’d want to hit Waterfall at least by tonight.

After hours of walking through the seemingly endless maze that was Hotland—and a few misadventures involving elevators that did not go where you had expected and hoped they would—you finally wound up at the now dusty watercooler and the entrance to Hotland itself.

Traveling was much easier with shortcuts.

The thought made you feel a little guilty, you’d been purposefully vague when telling Sans you’d be going out for a bit, you hadn’t even bothered to respond to his questions either, and by now, with you so far into the Underground, it was impossible—you had no cellphone service.

Your stomach grumbled as you poured yourself a cup of lukewarm water from the cooler, _so much for being a water cooler,_ you mused as you took a hesitant sip from your small paper cup. It was as good as anything though and you soon filled a refill and then another—at this rate you might actually empty the darned thing.

With your stomach sloshing uncomfortably with far too much water and little to nothing else you trudged on, keeping your eyes averted of the Sentry Station that you and Sans had worked at once upon a time.

He was going to be so mad when you got back home. You sighed, it was better not to think about that right now.

Another rumbled from your stomach and you finally stopped for a moment to rummage through your bag for food while your eyes adjusted to the darkness of Waterfall.

Food in hand and using your phone as a flashlight, you began to explore the desolate area. The glowing plants were so interesting and beautiful, though in the quiet atmosphere they seemed almost like they were leering at you. You couldn’t help the tremor you felt wrack your body as you passed by the spot you’d almost died at.

It really was hard to get over dying—almost dying… death in general.

 _“Why did you come back?”_ The voice came back suddenly, jarring you from your morbid train of thought.

“I—what? Who are you?” You called out timidly, your quavering voice bounding off the walls and reverberating around you. You weren’t sure exactly where in Waterfall you were—you’d never spent much time in Waterfall itself and because of you exceptional lack of direction you would get yourself lost quite easily.

 _“I’m you, I’m me, I’m everything, I’m nothing.”_ The voice was jeering now, and you could hear small giggles. The voice didn’t echo in the cavern though and that struck you as odd—why wasn’t it echoing? Just what… just who was this voice? Where was it coming from?

You shook of your increasing feelings of dread and continued further into Waterfall.

The river that you walked beside looked so inviting and you took a second to sit at its edge and stare at your wavering reflection. It was weirdly entrancing to stare at your face, your expression plain and eyes dulled from exhausted—both mental and physical. You didn’t quite understand why Sans liked you.

He was a skeleton, not a human skeleton, but a monster skeleton, so obviously in the looks-department he wasn’t conventionally attractive… but, for some odd reason he could stir feelings in you that you’d never had to deal with before.

His deep voice made your heart flutter uncomfortably and the gentle way he would caress your face or hold onto you made you feel so fragile, precious, and protected.

He looked at you like you were the sun, the moon, the very stars themselves—he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It was those small moments when his walls were down and you could see the true color of his magic-infused soul that you realized just how much he cared for you… and it was moments like that when you realized just how deeply you loved him.

After all, it was for him that you were down here searching for answers. You needed to know the truth. You needed to save them from persecution.

A sudden coldness shocked you and you couldn’t even gasp for air before your head was pulled under water by the current of the river. It took a moment of thrashing before you’d pulled yourself above the push and pull of the river. Your bag was half in and half out of the river and your phone was lying discarded next to it, you, for some inane reason, were currently treading water in a surprisingly fast moving river.

How had you gotten here? Had you leaned too far and fallen?

You couldn’t remember having moved.

As you pulled yourself up and onto the bank, taking a second to lay belly down on the side with your legs trailing helplessly in the water, you could hear a faint laughter coming from somewhere. Had something pushed you? Was someone down here?

You couldn’t help the tremble in your legs as you pushed yourself up and into a half-standing position—were you not alone?

 _“You’re never alone. Not down here anyway.”_ The voice sounded suddenly louder, like a chorus of different voices calling out all at once—each with their own cadence and lilt, voices of countless ages and genders. The laughing continued and continued and you felt tears spring to the corner of your eyes before you realized the source of the noise—you were laughing, laughing so hard. It was so funny.

But it wasn’t you.

Your strength was failing you.

You took in a deep breath of the cool but humid air in an attempt to calm your shot nerves and regain some semblance of self-control. You hadn’t been down here in so long and it was all falling apart—you were falling apart. You choked back a sob and moved to pick up your now soaking bag and battered phone.

You had a job to do and despite the taunting voice that was haunting you, you were determined to do it. You would find that damned golden flower—You would set all of this right.

It turned out that you had been right beside the entrance and thus the exit to Waterfall. It took an hour for you to trudge your way through the piled up snow in Snowdin before you’d stopped in front of the skeleton brother’s home. It looked a little worse for wear but in all regards it seemed to hold some amount of that comforting warmth it’d had all those years ago when you’d first lived there.

This house. This place. The people you’d met here. They’d saved you so many times—too many times to count, and sure, they’d done their fair share of hurting you too, but nothing would ever be perfect. You couldn’t ask for a better outcome and though you were sad and guilty to be deceiving Sans like this, you just wanted him to be safe. Surely he’d understand.

It was nearing the night of your second day being gone and rather than risk stumbling through Snowdin when it was dim and you were cold and exhausted, you opted to break into your old home and curl onto Sans old bed. It was odd to see it without its usual clutter, but it had remained relatively untouched and you were comforted to see an older version of his signature padded, blue, snow jacket. You slipped it around your shoulders and laughed at its comical largeness on you before letting yourself drift to sleep.

Your dreams were not your regular nightmares, nor where they of memories from previous timelines, instead you only saw glimpses and flashes from eyes that felt like they weren’t yours as you moved about in a body that didn’t seem to be yours. You looked in the mirror that was placed in the hall of Toriel’s—or was this Asgore’s—and saw a pair of faded red eyes staring back at you. By all means, it was you, but it wasn’t.

You sprang up, breathing harsh and skin covered in a sheen of sweat. What on earth was that? The dream was already fading from memory and you tried not to dwell on it, instead deciding that it was time to move on. You didn’t want to worry anyone, this was the third day of your absence and since you couldn’t respond to anyone they had to be worrying by now.

The emptiness of Snowdin bothered you. It reminded you too much of the awful memories you had from that timeline that hadn’t been yours. Somehow it felt like you were making that same journey again, that the silence wasn’t because everyone was happy and safe above ground, but rather because they were dust beneath your feet.

The door of The Ruins loomed above you, large and ornate as always, barely showing wear from the years of nonuse. With some effort you managed to push the opening wider and slip your way into the old and familiar, long, purple hallway.

This was the beginning of the end it seemed.

You kept walking, Sans’s old jacket keeping you warm and protected from the cold air. You slowly made your way down the long flight of stairs that so long ago you’d struggled up in the first place, and made your way through the second set of doors. There was no sign of life anywhere and you didn’t bother trying to hide your fear.

Your heart was beating too fast, your palms were slick with sweat, and your hands shaking. It would be okay. You’d just find him—or you wouldn’t—and that’d be it. Maybe have a nice little chat and then be on your way… or something like that…

You were having trouble thinking straight as you made your way up into Toriel’s home.

It was oddly clean despite being abandoned for a couple years.

You glanced around and noticed that though there was a thin layer of dust everywhere, there were also places where it had been wiped off or disturbed. Someone had been through here, apparently, and it seemed they’d been through here recently.

You could feel your panic begin to well up once again, in all honest you were somewhat surprised you’d only had one anxiety attack on your journey back through the mountain, it wasn’t like all your memories down here were pleasant and you had more than enough cause to have a panic attack of some sort.

But nothing had triggered it yet besides the golden hall that you’d died so, so, so many times in.

God damn, you really needed to stop thinking about all the times you had died—it couldn’t be healthy to think about death this much. Maybe you were a special case though, considering you had the power to go back and try again.

You shrugged, momentarily lost in thought as you wandered the empty halls of this small and cozy home. On a whim you decided to head into what used to be your bedroom, but paused outside the door.

It was slightly ajar and from the looks of it, the frame of the door was busted—it seemed like someone had forced their way inside. With some apprehension you pushed the door the rest of the way open, wincing at the loud and long creaking noise it made. What you saw inside made your stomach drop and your blood run cold.

The inside was torn to shreds. Ruined pages of books were scattered everywhere, your bookshelf was tipped on its side and missing several shelves, feathers from your ripped up pillows were strewn about the room and your bed and old mattress were lying in halves. But what really made your heart stutter to a stop was what was decorating the walls.

The wallpaper was torn in several places and right on the wall directly across from the door was carved in big block letters: IT’S KILL OR BE KILLED.


	31. Be Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you prepared for some violence, some anger, and some feels///
> 
> If you'd like to ask a question, give a request, or just say hi! Come by my tumblr for updates and the like:  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

The outside of the house was mostly empty, and after searching the other rooms you found no other disturbances. That small fact only served to make you more nervous considering your old room was the only one that had been absolutely trashed. You tried to calm yourself but it wasn’t working, you went back into your now destroyed room and sat in the center, your arms weakly hugging your trembling legs to your chest as you rested your head in your knees.

The carpet was rough and old and dug uncomfortably in your skin and the dust tickled your nose. You could see splatters of what looked red and angry—like blood perhaps—against the wall and covering the floor.

Tears sprang to your eyes again and you buried your head into your knees once more.

Nothing could bring you to move. This was just too much, you needed time to sit and stew and think. You needed time to let your emotions catch up to the events of this day and all the days before it.

You weren’t sure how long you’d sat there, eyes blindly staring holes in your wall, doing everything but looking at the words that now marred your bedroom. Kill or be killed.

Kill or be killed.

 _“He’s tactless, you know, but he’s right.”_ You shuddered and hid your face with your hair. You didn’t want to deal with this right now. Sans was right, you shouldn’t have come down here alone. You shouldn’t have come down here at all.

It was too late though, you had to continue on.

You wanted to make the world a safe place for him and his friends. You wanted your happy ending and that wasn’t going to happen until you got answers. Until you helped to clear the humans of all suspicions.

Was it the fourth day already? You’d been in the desolate, lonely, and empty Underground for a total of four days. Sans must be mad with worry. Toriel was probably back from her little trip. She was probably frantic over your disappearance. Briefly you wondered if Alex had told them where you’d gone… or if they even knew to ask him.

You’d have to thank Alex a whole lot once you got out of this place. A darker and sadder part of you whispered, _if you ever got out._

After what felt like days you finally rose and marched carefully out of the house, determination hardening your gaze and your heart. You might not be the toughest nor the strongest, but you had so much determination and so much love. You had no LOVE and you could cast aside the doubts and worries—you would finish what you came to do.

 _“Pathetic,”_ the voice seemed almost bored, but you blocked it out to the best of your ability.

You would do this for them, that was to mean, you would do it for him.

This was the final thought you carried in your head, heart, and soul as you trudged your way back through the countless puzzles that made up the Ruins. This empowering thought carried you all the way to the very beginning—to the very place you’d originally fallen in.

The flowers were beautiful, bright, and cheery as ever. It seemed they’d grown back in force since you’d crushed them with your weight all that time ago. With gentle hands you crouched down to cup the petals of one of the flowers in your hand, reverently stroking the soft and silky petal.

It was almost peaceful, the serene sunlight filtering down through the hole you’d tumbled through as a child and the flowers with their calming scent reminding you of the golden flower tea you and Asgore loved so much.

You could feel a strange sense of ease, but as quickly as the calmness had come, it left.

“Howdy! Gee, golly, it sure has been a long time, hasn’t it?” A sickeningly sweet voice called from somewhere behind you.

As graceful as ever you turned around, startled, and fell promptly on your back. A vine-like tendril wound its way around your leg and you tried not to cringe as thorns pressed into your delicate skin. The vine tugged and you found yourself being dragged to a very gleeful looking flower.

But in his eyes there was something else. Something that wasn’t quite hate and wasn’t quite indifference.

“H-hi Asriel.”

You were lifted into the air and slammed down, the air getting knocked forcefully from your lungs, and were answered with a snarl, “My name is Flowey. _I’m Flowey the Flower._ ”

You refused to give any reaction, doing your best not to whimper at the tightening of the vicelike grip he had on your leg, nor the bruise that was very quickly forming on your back, instead you chose to act as cheery as he was attempting—and failing—to be.

“It’s been a long time… Asr—er, Flowey.” An indescribable emotion flashed on his face for a moment before he lifted you again and flung you down to land sprawling a few yards from him. He, mercifully, let go of your leg at that moment and you gingerly picked yourself up.

“Flowey… I have something important to ask…”

But before you could get the words out fully, he interrupted you.

“Why?”

“I… what?” You were taken aback, unsure of what he was asking.

“Why did you come back?”

You took a second to look at him once again and studied his face for another moment before whispering, “something bad is happening on the surface.”

“That’s not my problem,” he snapped and you tried not to flinch from the harsh tone.

“They’re blaming the monsters… one thing led to another and a clue led me back here…” Your words seemed to stump him for a moment before a malicious grin appeared on his face and his characteristic cackle sounded.

“Ahaha, so you blame me, don’t you? You think I am the one responsible? You think that little ol’ me got bored or something and decided to have a little… _playdate_ with humanity? Awh, gee, Frisk, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you thought I was a _murderer._ ” He probably couldn’t have looked happier if he tried, “but I’m not the murderer here.” He laughed bitterly, and you could almost hear the unsaid words; _‘you are.’_

“Flowey, there are disappearances and people are dying… please… I… I don’t know what to do.” You whispered out, your voice sounded pathetic, even to you.

“Golly, Frisk, you really must be an idiot. I don’t want anything to do with you or the surface.” He sighed, a forlorn look crossing his face for just a moment before he continued on, “Why would I try and attract attention to myself?”

He snickered, feigning a moment of thought before he added, “ha, I’m flattered though, really.”

He paused for a moment, seeming more serious this time, then in a somehow more somber voice he asked, “Why did you come back? Didn’t I say not to come back? Are you really that much of an idiot?”

“I… I’m sor—“ but, before you could finish your broken apologies, he screamed and vines sprang from the ground to wrap themselves around you. You felt your body fly up only to crash against the floor.

“Y O U S H O U L D N O T H A V E C O M E B A C K !” The wild cackling wouldn’t stop and you had to grit your teeth to stop yourself from crying out due to the pain of being slammed from wall to wall to ground once more.

“You left me! You left _us,_ we were so angry! You left!” His cries were so bitter and full of resentment and suddenly you realized what it had been you’d seen in his eyes earlier. It was sadness. It was loneliness. It was anger. He was upset you’d left him.

“Why, Frisk? Why? Why did you leave us? You saved everyone, you saved Asriel! Why didn’t you save me too? Am I not worth saving?” His voice cracked and you couldn’t help but flinch away from his questions, guilt ate at your insides and you wanted to cry.

“I. Am. Not. Worth. Saving.” He emphasized each word by pressing your further into the dirt and rocks, some of it digging painfully into your cheek.

Then all too suddenly his anger vanished and you were left limp on the floor as you attempted to catch your breath. You could hear light sobs and it seemed like it was coming from him.

Slowly you stood, your body aching, hurt, and bruised. Your voice was quiet and soft as you kneeled beside the flower’s hunched form. “I’m sorry, Flowey. I’m so sorry.”

He seemed to be muttering something but you couldn’t quite make it out. As gently as you could you grabbed him by his stem and using your other hand you dug around his base. He protested but there was nothing behind the harsh words he spat at you. Soon enough he was out and sitting in the palms of your hands.

You pressed a light kiss to his forehead, ignoring the throbbing pain in your head and side and the cuts that marred your legs and arms, but instead just focusing on him—the poor, lonely, broken, soulless being in front of you.

“I’ll never leave you again, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, so sorry, Flowey.”

He didn’t say anything and with him in tow you stood, readying yourself to make your way again through the Underground.

The trip this time was much faster, though in total you still ended up being in the Underground for a totally of eight days. It was a relief to exit the cave and blink up at the bright sky once more. Your body hurt and you had bruises everywhere, including a nice large purple one taking up half of your forehead, with a pretty nasty cut trailing down the side of your face.

You were in bad shape, but despite everything, you were still you.

Though traveling with Flowey had certainly been an experience, it seemed that while he was in your possession the mysterious voice had left you alone. He’d never explained what he meant by ‘us’ and ‘we’ and you didn’t press him for answers.

It was almost comical how angry he would act yet how surprisingly gentle he was. You used to joke and say that the cactus was truly the most tsundere of plants but now you knew the truth. Flowey was the most tsundere of plants, though, part of you wasn’t sure he technically even counted as a plant—you decided to leave that line of questioning for another day, you had more important matters to attend to.

Like, for one thing, how you were planning on getting home. And another, why your phone seemed to be buzzing constantly. When you finally pulled it out of the pocket on Sans’ jacket your heart nearly stopped at what you saw.

_43 missed calls and 78 unread text messages._

You’d only been gone, what, eight days? What on earth could have happened in eight days?

You frowned. Eight kidnappings and a death had happening in eight days, so actually, it shouldn’t be surprising that your friends were worried. But, still, didn’t that seem a little excessive?

Ah, well, Sans sure was going to be pissed.

Resigned to your fate, you began your slow trudge down the mountain before coming upon the parking lot from earlier that week. There was a lone and rather sad looking bench that overlooked the lot and with a weary sigh you settled down on it, as you looked through your texts.

 _“frisk, where ya headed, kiddo?”_ Your guilt bit at you once again but you continued to read through his texts anyways.

_“frisk, i saw the news, do you want to come over or should i come over?”_

_“frisk, why aren’t you responding?”_

_“frisk?”_

_“kid?”_

_“babe, please, you’re… are you okay?”_ You blinked in confusion, what had happened? Did another body turn up? Your stomach twisted with worry, and Flowey clung a little tighter to your shoulders as he read through the texts.

_“frisk. where the fuck are you.”_

_“if you don’t respond i’m coming to find you.”_

_“this isn’t funny.”_

_“frisk, please.”_

_“please, god please, just respond, i’m worried. i miss you.”_

_“frisk, toriel is frantic. she is inconsolable.”_

_“please just be okay.”_ The most recent text had been sent about a day ago and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty as you scrolled back through all of his worried texts. It turned out that you had received similar texts from each of your friends, and even a few of the voicemails on your phone had been their worried voices asking where you were.

Then of course there was Sans’ messages which ranged from angry to nearly crying: the first one had mostly consisted of a very bitter, “frisk, the fuck are you doing, we are all so fucking worried and this isn’t fucking funny, come back, please, be safe, god, just be safe, please.” And the most recent of which was just a simple “i love you, please, please, don’t let me lose you too.”

You tried not to let your guilt swallow you whole but instead dialed his number and waited for the ringer to pick up. On the first ring he answered, voice a mixture of anger and shock and relief when he practically yelped into the phone, “frisk?”

“Sans. I’m so sorry.”

You could hear his sharp intake of breath and smile despite yourself at his next question, “where are you, kid?”

“Ah… heh… Mount Ebott.” You whispered meekly, trying to mentally prepare yourself for what you were sure was going to be a hell of a lecture, you could already just feel his anger through the phone line.

“i love you,” despite the slight anger, the slight bitterness in his tone, his words took your breath away and everything that had happened up until then caused you to lose any sense of self-preservation you’d had.

Tears came fast and thick and your voice was choked with grief and fear and relief all rolled into one messily combined emotion. “I l-love you t-too S-s-sans, I’m s-so sorry I l-lied t-t-to you, I was s-so scared and s-s-sad and I’m sorry I’m the w-worst, I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m the worst, I l-love you and everyone so… s-so much and I w-want th-them to be happy.”

Your words were tumbling from your mouth faster and faster, your voice taking on an almost hysterical keening sound as you continued to sob into the phone, your mind wasn’t even registering his stuttered words as you cried out apologies.

“I’m s-sorry S-sans, I’m sorry, I lied to y-you, I’m s-s-sorry, tell m-mom I’m s-sorry, I kn-know you g-guys are mad, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hate m—” Your words were cut off as soon as you felt strong skeletal arms wrap around your trembling frame.

Flowey squeaked with irritation and frustration as Sans roughly shoved him from your shoulders in order to pick you up and hug you tightly to his chest. His arms were shaking and his eyes full of worry and you couldn’t stop the tears that streamed down your face.

Flowey coughed awkwardly but the two of you paid him no mind. The sun was high in the sky and the world bright and dazzling despite all of the darkness it had seen, Sans had your cradled against his chest as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

You hadn’t solved anything, and though you felt a sense of disappointment from that, you felt like it would be okay—even if you weren’t okay.

Healing was a process, after all, it would never happen all at once. But at least you had Sans there by your side to help you every step of the way.

So maybe it wasn’t okay today, but it might end up being okay tomorrow, or the next day, or someday far off in the future—the important thing to remember was that… it _was_ going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Shameless Tumblr plug)  
> [Writing Blog](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)


	32. Puzzle Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plotplotplotplotplot where am i going with this!!!??? who knows??? (i know, but that's because i have it written out) do you know????  
> (hope you don't mind this short and shitty chapter////)
> 
> //screams internally//  
> [My Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

“wait, so, not only did you go behind my back but you also brought that… that _thing_ back?” His voice held a kind of quiet anger you were entirely unprepared for. He held a hand out, gesturing for your to hand him the flower. You frowned, but he ignored that and shook his hand pointedly, "hand it over, kid."

Instinctively, you clutched the flower in question to your chest, “but, Sans,” you whined, your voice coming out more like a petulant child rather than a mature and reasonable adult. He only smirked at you briefly before the grin turned darker and you saw the flash of anger in his eye sockets once again.

“frisk no,” he muttered flatly.

“Frisk yes,” Flowey spat back, his face morphing slightly into something a little more terrifying as he shot Sans a twisted glare. You didn’t even see it, not understanding why Sans suddenly seemed to growl with anger.

“Flowey was all alone down there. Now he can be up here… It… it doesn’t even matter! We’ve got bigger problems.” You whined again, attempting to be reasonable.

He’d spent nearly an hour rocking your bruised and battered body against his chest, holding unbelievably tight to you, like he thought you might disappear at any moment as you cried, cried, and cried. You cried your apologies, you cried your fears, you sobbed your love and dreams and wishes. And he’d stayed mostly silent aside from the occasional muttered “I love you,” and “I was so worried.” He was there for you and quiet and supportive. It was everything you needed at that moment.

But Flowey had grown impatient, actually, you had almost forgotten he was there until he coughed awkwardly and said some dumb demeaning comment to Sans. Apparently, Sans had forgotten the flower was there too. But now, here the two of you were, you holding protectively on Flowey and Sans glaring at the dreaded weed.

You wanted to yell at him, but that seemed like a bad idea considering he was only looking out for you, he was just trying his best to keep you safe and happy… but, you felt like he was babying you far too much—you felt like he was pretending you were just a child, helpless, small, and fragile. The thing was, even as a child, you hadn’t been helpless. You’d saved yourself from your struggles, and in the process you’d saved everyone else.

He didn’t even know everything about Flowey. Sans didn’t know that Flowey was Asriel, nor that Asriel was still somewhere inside there. You’d explained some of it, you’d told him that the two of you had fought and in the end the barrier broke—but you’d never told him all of it. You’d never told anyone all of it.

How do you even begin to explain that there was a small child—but not a child—trapped inside a soulless flower?

 _No big deal or anything, but like, you know, the prince of monsters is now a soulless flower. It's no biggie, really, happens all the time. He's chill now, though, honestly, hasn't killed someone in like... a least a month!_ It sounded absurd even to you, and you'd been through and done plenty of weird things.

“frisk, we have to talk, there are things that… stuff… ya know, kid, you… ya missed a lot… and it’s not good,” you’d never heard Sans stumble over his words so much, at least you couldn’t bring any moment like this to mind. He seemed to be trying to choose his phrasing so carefully and you could feel the sudden tension in the atmosphere.

But a cough from the flower wrapped in your arms interrupts whatever Sans was about to say and the two of you glance down, trying to see what it is he wants, but Sans grabs your attention once more.

“Can… Can it wait, Sans? We just got back… I… I just want to sleep.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly before giving you a short nod, “normally I’d take a shortcut back home, but I’m not sure how the weed’ll do with that… so…”

“Flowey, you should call him Flowey. He’s… he’s got a name…”

“fine, fine, whatever, i don’t know why it is so important to you but whatever, let’s go home okay?”

He grabbed your hand, leading you through the parking lot and further down the road to where his moped was parked. You tried not to question how he managed to bring his moped here when you knew he’d used a shortcut to get to you in the first place—his magic was always going to be something you never fully understood.

He hoped on and you followed suit with Flowey tucked safely in your tattered jacket. The wind was cutting and sharp and way too cold, but there was nothing you could do but cling to Sans.

You were sitting on Toriel’s lap, a cup of hot chocolate in one hand a Flowey pot in the other—a very indignant Flowey pot. Thankfully Toriel didn’t question your new companion, the very angry Flowey, because instead, she was too busy crying tears of relief and scooping you into her arms and mumbling about how worried she was and how scared she was and she thought she lost you and she thought she lost you just like she’d lost the others and she kept repeating that—the, “I thought I lost you, I thought I lost you,” becoming too much and you started to cry too.

And just like Sans who held you and coddled you, she also held you tight and didn’t let go.

Sans had tried to bring up whatever ‘bad news’ he had, but with a stern look from Toriel he quickly shut up. She wasn’t about to have her reunion with you marred by whatever news was going on that as far as she was concerned, didn’t concern you.

The three—now four, it was hard to remember Flowey counted as a person now—sat in the living room for some time, just basking in each other’s presence. But you were quickly growing tired and soon you made your excuses to head up to your room.

Toriel pretended not to notice Sans follow you up there. She pretended not to notice him never come down.

The two of you lay side by side in bed. Flowey was still downstairs, glowering at everything, and you’d left him there upon Sans request. Whatever he had to say, it seemed important.

“frisk, i think it’s humans doing this.”

Your eyes widened and you paused, as though waiting for the punchline to the joke you didn’t quite understand. But it never came and slowly you realized how serious he was being.

“Sans, that… doesn’t seem right… why are they bothering other humans and not just straight up attacking monsters?” You asked with a frown.

He shrugged, “think ‘bout it, frisk. the anti-monster movement was losing steam, humans attacking monsters and monsters not attacking back? it just showed how angry and violent the humans were.”

You nodded, but the look of confusion did not leave your face, so he continued with his explanation, “look, frisk, they’re attacking humans so they’ll think it’s the monsters. all of a sudden, violence and hate against monsters has increased at least three fold from where it’d been at an all-time low…”

“it took me a minute to realize the connection of the people who have been taken…”

You felt very uneasy at this thought. The idea that humans were murdering other humans just to frame the monsters? The fact that it seemed plausible enough to be true—that there were actual humans on the planet who hated the monsters enough to actually _harm_ and _kill_ other humans just to get their way… it was… sickening. It was disgusting. You felt sickened with your own kind.

You felt a flicker of something unrecognizable. A feeling you didn’t get often. Anger… anger at the world. You felt something deeper and darker than that, but it wasn’t your emotion—it wasn’t yours at all. It was someone else’s feelings. Someone else’s very old feeling… a feeling of hatred. A feeling of anger and hatred and pity and a pathetic sense of disgust with humanity.

“the people who have been taken are all relatives of those who are fighting for monster’s rights…”

He paused once more, and you looked at him curiously, pushing your thoughts aside to study his face fully. He looked apprehensive, he looked worried, he was looking at you, but also looking through you. For some reason, you felt like you might break, but you weren’t sure why.

“frisk, they attacked you, too,” he finally said, quietly.

“What?”

Your heart stopped, your mind froze, and somewhere deep in the recesses of your thoughts it felt as though a puzzle piece had finally clicked into place. Something about this finally made sense.


	33. You and Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short chapter pls forgive me///
> 
> My Tumblr is here, feel free to messages me, requests and the like are welcomed! Follow for updates!  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

It made sense, the connections between the attacks, the people, the motive. It all made sense. They were attempting to discredit the monsters, while also breeding hate in those who most supported the monsters. But why? Why would they go this far to do so? Who was it? Who were they?

How could a group of people think that murdering innocents was going to solve their problems?

You felt the stirrings of an emotion you didn’t want to name—an emotion that didn’t belong to you. You felt the seeds of hate plant themselves in your heart.

Yet, even despite all of this, one part didn’t make any sense. Attack you? How would they do that? Unless they attacked monsters, there was no one to attack, right?

“What did they do?” You muttered, more to yourself this time than him.

He stayed silent as you talked yourself through it.

“But Sans, they can’t attack me… I mean, they haven’t… I mean, I would know, right?” You paused again, attempting to process his words.

“I don’t have any relatives, though… I mean…” He watched your face closely, your eyes were half-lidded, your mouth slightly open, brows furrowed. Then, you gasped.

“Shit.”

“yeah,” he sighed out, resting a hand on your thigh and tracing lazy circles into your skin.

“I… this… I need a second… should I be upset? She doesn’t deserve my… she doesn’t deserve my feelings or… worries… right?” You didn’t even notice that your breathing had sped up, you didn’t notice the gentle grip Sans had on your hand, nor his calming words. Your brain was running a mile a minute, trying its best to puzzle this out—trying its best to rationalize the worry and fear and sadness you felt, trying to come to terms with the burnings anger and deep seated hate.

“She’s NOT my mother! She didn’t do ANYTHING for ME!” You yelled suddenly, causing Sans to flinch backward.

“I mean, I’m sorry, okay? She doesn’t deserve anything bad to happen to her, but why would they attack her of all people? Shouldn’t they know I don’t… I won’t… I shouldn’t care. I don’t care, I don’t care at all. But I do, and I’m confused. When did this happen?”

He was mumbling something out, trying to get you to calm down, but you wouldn’t. You were just riling yourself up more and more.

“Sans, no, never mind, it doesn’t matter when. This is more of a why. I should be upset, right? She’s my mother. But she’s not, Toriel is my mother. And Toriel is safe, right? So I should stop worrying. But what do I do? How are they justifying taking the mother of the ambassador of monsters and calling it an attack from the monsters? Does that even make sense?”

You took a deep breath, your words coming out faster and faster, the pitch of your voice keening higher and higher, “Sans, seriously, Sans, it doesn’t make sense. They can’t attack me and still blame it on monsters, that doesn’t make sense, does it? They just can’t do that. It’s obvious it’s not monsters if they do that… I’m sorry, no, this isn’t okay, I’m not okay. Why do I even care about that woman? She was nothing but evil to me, nothing but neglectful, nothing but hateful…”

“frisk!” he yelled sharply, cutting off your rant, “frisk, it’s okay. it’s not okay, i get that, but it’s also okay.”

“Okay… but why her?” You asked, your voice sounded so small—so small and fragile and young, not at all like yourself.

“Why her? Why me? Why do they think she matters to me? Why does she matter to me? _Why am I crying?”_ You choked out, tears again trailing lazy paths down your face. You’d cried too much today—you’d cried enough for the year.

You’d cried enough for the rest of your life.

“frisk, it’s because you are a good person.” Sans cupped your face in his bony hands a placed a tentative kiss on each of your cheeks before hugging you tight once more.

“she doesn’t deserve you, and she never did, but i am so glad she had you… so… frisk, do you realize everything you’ve done for us? done for me?” He whispered, not maintaining eye contact.

“frisk, i know…” He started.

“Sans, I… I love you, but I think I need a minute to myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, he looked like he wanted to fight it, but instead he just nodded, a look of defeat appearing briefly on his face.

You left your bedroom and ambled downstairs, the house dark and quiet, the light sound of rain on the room would almost be calming if it wasn’t for the storm you felt inside. You couldn’t help but worry about your biological mother. Yet something was telling you not to worry. Something was screaming at you, telling you that it was unimportant, that she _deserved_ it.

_You’d finally be rid of her. She’d be gone and she’d be dead. There’d be no chance for her to come back to get you._

_She deserves this._

You stumble into the living room, your eyes slightly blurred from tears, and muttered out a weak “n-no.” You had such conflicting feelings, you weren’t sure what this was. It’d been years since you’d had to deal with this. This run… this timeline… You’d never had to deal with this split in personalities this timeline.

You thought… you thought you’d been free.

The lights were out throughout the house, and the silence weighed on you thick and fast. Part of you felt bad for just leaving Sans up there like that, but you had some worries you couldn’t quite deal with… worries that Sans couldn’t help you with.

“Howdy, friend.” The voice was jarring despite the soft tone. Flowey didn’t sound concerned, but he didn’t sound like his usual mocking self either.

You didn’t give him a response, not even a hello, but instead reached up and onto the mantle above the fireplace to pull him and his flower pot off. He didn’t question you, only grumbling slighty.

“Flowey… do… do you know about the first child? More than just what… you.. er, Asriel, said?”

“What?” He seemed confused, “what… do you want to know?”

It was odd that he was being so serious when most previous experiences you’d had with him involved him trying to kill you—or at the very least, insulting you.

“Flowey… something happened… did… you had access to resets and loads and saves, yeah?”

He nodded shortly.

“Did… did… did _they_ have access to it, too?” You asked, your stomach churning nervously.

“Uh, I… I think I got the ability from them… It requires determination, right? Doesn’t it make sense that I got it from them…” He coughed, “I mean, friend, if you had the power, doesn’t it follow that they would have had it too?”

You sighed, “but what about the other fallen children?”

He scoffed, a somewhat evil smile on his face, “they did not have determination. They were pathetic and scared and died far too easily.”

You tried and failed to repress your shivers at his uncaring words, but it was just so creepy—if you hadn’t been so… if you hadn’t been so determined, you would have died, you would have died and never come back.

“But, Flowey, I wasn’t even all that determined. I was scared most of the time. I was sad. I was tired…”

He shrugged his petals, or at least, that was what the gesture looked like, before commenting quietly, “I don’t think it mattered… of all of the fallen children… you were the most similar to them… maybe you got your power from them, maybe you got your determination from them.”

_Ha, why are you talking to the crybaby?_

You tried to ignore the voice, pushing it to the side as best you could.

He seemed to notice your moment of internal conflict, “Frisk…” you weren’t used to him, to Flowey, using your name, “why are you asking about them?”

“I heard them.”

“What?” He asked, face in shock.

“I heard them! I heard them when I was in Mount Ebott, and I hear the—” You choked on your words, not sure what made you stumble before taking a deep breath and trying again, forcing each word out, “I haven’t… heard them… this entire timeline… but now they’re… talking to me… again… Why!?” The last word came out as more of a whine than anything else, but Flowey seemed to get the point.

He looked horrified and you tried not to panic at the expression—if a soulless fucking flower was worried about a long dead child suddenly talking to you again, then you felt it was pretty damn concerning.

“Why now?” You mumbled out, less to him and more to yourself.

_Some things never get explained…_

Was that you or… was that _them_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **KIND OF IMPORTANT BUT NOT //THAT// IMPORTANT**  
> I have a patreon account, and you are by no means required to check it out or do ANYTHING AT ALL with it! So don’t feel obligated or guilty or pressured at all, it’s just, I’m a university student and it’s hard enough as it is to keep up with classes, work, and writing.
> 
> The reason for this is that just recently I found out I might be losing my work study which is how I’ve been paying for tuition! So I have a lot of extra stress I wasn’t prepared for. I still want to write, I still want to go to school, but it’s a little difficult to keep writing when I’m so worried about how I’m going to afford to do anything! Don’t worry! I’ll still be doing my best to update frequently and this isn’t “pay to read” because honestly, I’m just an amateur writer and don’t deserve that kind of thing!
> 
> Anyways, NO PRESSURE, NO OBLIGATION, please don't feel required or guilty at all, if you'd like to check my patreon account, come here:  
> [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/chichiluffsyou?ty=h)


	34. No Longer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *NOTE* I officially lost my job, which *sucks* so expect chapters to be coming a lot slower while I deal with how the hell I'm going to pay for my tuition and also keeping up with classwork. I'm sorry for the kind of downer news!  
> \----------------  
> honestly i don't like the way the next few chapters are but i don't know how to fix them in a way i like them, i hope they're okay for you guys at least.  
> \----------------  
> If you'd like to support me in my writing adventure (though there is no pressure to), please follow the link below:  
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Sans had found you the next morning curled up with an irritable Flowey wrapped in your arms. He couldn’t help the moment of jealousy, but pushed it away—after all, the thing in your arms was just some flower that had put both you and himself through hell. He tried not to think about the kind of hell he’d put you through, too.

You’d seemed pretty bothered by the whole thing with your mother, and while he had known you’d be upset, he hadn’t expected the anger he saw in your eyes.

He hadn’t told you all of it, he hadn’t told you about the curfew that had been placed on monsters, he hadn’t told you about the dust that could be found in dark alleys. He hadn’t told you that some humans had gotten so upset and angry when the third dead body had been found that Muffet’s bakery had been torched. Nor had he mentioned that Papyrus had been attacked on his way to the library—he certainly didn’t tell you about what he’d _done_ to those who had attacked Papyrus.

He wasn’t sure if he trusted you completely, though, and he was afraid that if he told you about these things, well, he was afraid you might pull another disappearance act. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if something happened to you.

He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t let it happen.

God, if only you’d realized the kind of panic he’d felt when he realized you were gone…

_He’d gotten your text while he was working one of his many jobs, and though he’d thought it odd, he didn’t particularly question you, even if he’d wanted to. Underneath all of your assurances he’d sensed something. He didn’t quite trust that you weren’t just going to up and head back to Mount Ebott after all these years, but he’d hoped, maybe it was a dumb, foolish hope, but he’d hoped you’d heed his warning and not go back._

_After the night you’d told him about Flowey he’d held you in his lap and smoothed out your frazzled hair. He’d kissed the top of your forehead and promised that it would be okay. You’d told him about all of the deaths you’d experienced because of the damned weed._

_You’d told him about the powers that flower had. You’d told him that you were scared that one day somehow, the flower would gain the power to reset again and that you’d have to live through all of this again. That you’d have to meet Sans again and again and the sadness in your voice hurt his soul._

_He had never thought about how difficult it’d been for you, living through each reset. Living through each save and loud and damned game again and again. You’d explained that it hadn’t been your will. It hadn’t been your choice._

_Just like it hadn’t been your choice to kill them all—he still had night terrors about that, not that he’d ever tell you. You beat yourself up for it too much as it was._

_That night when you hadn’t responded to his text, he began to worry. But he’d texted Tori, asking about you, and she’d assured him you were fine—something about you being with Alex or something like that. Which, truth be told, he’d been quite jealous about._

_Probably for as long as he lived, he’d never stop cursing himself for setting you up on that damned date._

_But that wasn’t what was bothering—at least, it wasn’t everything that was bothering him. He was more bothered by the fact that you hadn’t responded to his text. And when he’d asked Toriel, she’d nonchalantly mentioned that you hadn’t responded to hers either. She’d just figured you were busy… but Sans wasn’t so sure…_

_He’d recognized that look in your eyes when you suggested finding Flowey. He knew that you were going to be getting involved whether he wanted you to or not—no amount of begging on his part would stop you._

_You and your god damned determination and your god damned insistence on doing the right thing and helping people and being such a good person._

_God damn you and your senseless quest to save everyone._

_He wasn’t really as mad at you as his texts suggested, but two days without any response from you and he was getting fairly worried. Toriel was, despite appearances, quite worried too. it seemed you hadn’t bothered replying to her either._

_He wasn’t sure if he should be mad, or should just be scared for your safety. He’d looked all over town for you, he’d even ridden his bike up to Mount Ebott to look around for you, but he hadn’t found you anywhere. He wanted to contact Alex and ask him where you were, ask him if you were okay, ask him what was going on._

_Sans just… he just wanted to know that you were safe._

_But then it was three days and there was a new disappearance each day and a new murder each day, but that wasn’t all. The group that was responsible for the kidnappings was inciting violence on monsters. People were retaliating, people were scared, people felt as though they were justified in their hatred for monster kind._

_And Sans couldn’t do anything about it._

_But then, on the fourth day of your disappearance a meeting was called, you, Toriel, Asgore, and several other officials were summoned, and when it was discovered that you had disappeared, monsters had cried in outrage, shock, and fear. Some of the monsters were convinced you’d abandoned them, convinced that you were done trying to help them, or that you were on the human’s side. Others were worried that you were sick or injured._

_Most everyone was just scared._

_And Sans would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared as hell, too. You hadn’t responded. You hadn’t responded. You hadn’t responded. What was he supposed to think? He’d even called a few times, and you knew how much he hated to talk on the phone._

_But you hadn’t answered. You hadn’t replied. You hadn’t messaged back. You hadn’t called back._

_Then he was watching the news. He was sitting on the couch of his and Papyrus’ home, feeling bored, feeling scared, feeling worried. He was sitting on the couch and the news was on, giving counts of deaths, injuries, robberies, kidnappings, etcetera. They weren’t all monster related, some weren’t even within the district that most of the hate-movement was concentrated in._

_But then he saw a name. He saw the note that was found in the house of the victim. He saw the name and if he’d had a heart… it would have stopped in shock. As it was, his soul was thrumming and he couldn’t help the spark of blue that flashed in his right eye socket. His magic was always too closely tied to his emotions; it was a problem._

_But his lack of control didn’t matter right now. None of that mattered. What mattered was the fact that you were gone and your mother was on the television. The real problem wasn’t that she was on the television, the problem was that she wasn’t ON the television. She’d been taken, and all they had was a name and a place._

_How long had she been gone? It was all Sans could think about. Maybe she’d come back for you. Maybe the group of kidnappers had taken her as a way to get back at you. Maybe you’d disappeared with her. But why? None of it made sense._

_How would they know you were connected to her?_

_He tried to puzzle it out. It made sense that this was being done by a group of overly zealous and angry humans. But he couldn’t figure out why they were so keen on taking humans._

_It had seemed there was no connection between the people that were getting taken._

_So he’d researched, a nervous energy fueling him as he searched through the records, the reports, the files that the chief of police had so kindly shared with Asgore and himself. She’d figured it would be helpful if actual monsters could be involved in the case._

_And he’d figured it out. Well, he’d at least pieced together some of the puzzle._

_The humans that were taken, they’d all been relatives—distant or close or otherwise—of pro-monster activists._

_He sighed, exasperated and frustrated—and underlying all of that, he was scared for you and he was angry that this sort of thing was even happening._

_He didn’t know what it’d been like on the surface before, having been brought into the world when monsters were already under the mountain, but he couldn’t help but feel some sick sense of vindication that the humans had turned out to be as violent as they’d been before._

_Day five. He couldn’t get out of bed. He hated to admit that he was having trouble functioning without you there. He didn’t want to say it was some unhealthy codependency shit, but it was mostly that he was so god damn worried about you that he had trouble focusing on anything else._

_He just wanted you to be okay. That night, despite staying the day in bed, he’d managed to get up and he’d gone through shortcut after shortcut looking for you or any sign of you._

_Toriel wasn’t doing any better than he was. She was beyond worried. She’d not been texting him silly jokes nor had she been baking like she used to. She’d come over the day before, eyes red and puffy, a messily baked butterscotch cinnamon pie in her hands. He’d asked her what was wrong and she’d whispered something about “I can’t lose another one.”_

_She’d never talked about the other children, and he hadn’t known her during the time those other children had fallen—suffice it to be said that they were far before his time._

_He’d never told you about his birth, or would it be better to call it his creation? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t tell you much about it in any case, he didn’t even know much about it…_

_He’d known Toriel for a while through the door, though he hadn’t known the little jokester on the other side was actually the lost queen of all monsters; what he also hadn’t known is what she’d suffered. He was to serve as judge, jury, and executioner for those who wandered through the Underground, but those other children had fallen before his time—he didn’t know about them, he didn’t know about her._

_But he was glad… he was glad he’d met her. He was glad he’d been around for your fall. He was glad he’d promised Toriel… he tried not to think about all of the times he hadn’t managed to protect you. He tried not to think about the timelines where your blood stained the dusty white of his skeletal hands._

_It was the morning of day six. Papyrus had woken him up with a harried look on his face. And while Sans had been concerned, it was a short lived feeling, but he couldn’t gather the energy to feel a whole lot of anything… for… anyone._

_He’d messaged you too many times—maybe a little too angrily some of the times. You still were nowhere to be found. He’d searched every night. He’d talked to Lesser Dog and Greater Dog and they couldn’t find your scent anywhere. Maybe it was the rain of the past few days. Maybe it was because it’d been too long since you’d left._

_Day seven and he felt ungodly angry. How could you dare to think it was okay to leave him—to leave them—like that? How on earth did you think it’d be fine? God, when he found you... You were in for a bad time._

_Yet despite the anger, he was mostly just scared. He was scared for you. Scared for Toriel who was having trouble sleeping at night. Worried for Papyrus who didn’t even want to make spaghetti—and when his silly, spaghetti loving brother refused to cook for people… well that was when you knew something was really wrong._

_Day eight and he wasn’t angry anymore. No, wait, he was angry, right? But he wasn’t. He was angry at himself, maybe he was just mad he’d let you out of his sight. He was just mad he hadn’t been there to save you, or that he hadn’t been there to stop you from leaving—assuming, praying, hoping that you’d left on your own choice._

_That night, he was out and about trying to find you. And his phone began to ring and he scrambled to grab it out, hands trembling as he looked at the name._

_He answered and found it hard to breathe. He didn’t even need to breathe, yet he couldn’t get rid of the constricting feeling in his chest. Then your voice called out…_

_Your sweet, sweet, sweet voice._

_All anger melted away, how could he be angry? How could he be mad? Where were you, he asked, maybe a little too harshly despite what he was feeling. Was this relief? It felt cold and warm and he felt so much lighter than he had the entire past week._

_Just the sound of your voice made his soul thrum in a harmony it hadn’t had for the past eight days. Then he finally realized what that gross, sad, somewhat lonely feeling had been. More than just his depression, he’d missed you._

_He’d missed you a lot. He’d been scared for you. He’d been angry. He’d missed you. And now here you finally were, calling him, talking to him, mumbling out apology after apology._

_And he wanted nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and cuddle you to his chest, he wanted to kiss your soft lips and make you wrinkle your nose from embarrassment at all of his sentimental shit._

_He wanted to know that you missed him as much as he missed you. And god, he just wanted to know that you were okay._

_So yeah, of course, when you had started crying—what was he supposed to do? Ignore his lover’s tears? He’d found the closest shortcut possible when you’d start crying, then another and another until he saw you sitting on that bench by yourself still crying into the phone. He’d discarded his bike and appeared beside you._

_And in that moment, you were everything that mattered. He could have sat with you there in his lap for hours, for days, for weeks, but fate could not be so kind. You were hell bent on doing whatever it was that people like you did and he couldn’t just ignore all of the events of the past few days. You needed to know the truth._

_He’d prefer you to hear it from him than from someone else._

He laid a gentle hand on your back and cupped your face with his other before placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. Trying his best not to wake you up, he lifted you from the floor and ever so carefully brought you upstairs and laid you in your bed.

After a moment’s hesitation he slid in beside you. He felt content when you sleepily mumbled his name and wrapped your arms around him.

He may not know all of what was wrong, but he was going to help you through it. The thing about you always looking to help others was that you never had time to help yourself.

He was going to keep you safe. He was going to make sure you knew you were loved. He was going to protect you. He was going to help you.

He was _determined_.


	35. I'll Tell You!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //screams internally//
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“Sans, we have to find her. I’m… she… she’s… We have to find and save everyone…” You trailed off, nervously stirring the hot chocolate in your hands. The spoon was nearly scalding; you’d made the drink too hot. Oh well.

“frisk, maybe ya could take a sec’ and rest your weary bones, okay, kid?” He sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly with one hand.

From the moment you’d woken up to the moment you’d fallen asleep again that night you’d been talking nonstop about creating a “game plan” and all about how you could find the kidnappers. Even this morning, the first words out of your mouth had been “I’ve got a plan!”

A plan to which he’d promptly said no.

If monsters could die early of stress, he was sure you were shaving years off of his life.

“Okay, but, Sans, it’s… I can’t… it’s my fault.”

He took a deep breath, trying not to feel irritated with you. Trying not to be frustrated that you wouldn’t accept the fact that not every god damn bad thing that happened was your god damned fault. Okay, so perhaps trying not to be angry wasn’t working all that well.

But he couldn’t yell at you. You had those sparkling puppy dog eyes, and your lip jutted out in a pout—and part of him wanted to bite that lip and suck on it and see your face flush with embarrassment and perhaps lust. Instead, though, he just continued his futile attempts at calming you.

“it’s not your fault, kiddo, none of this is your responsibility.”

You shrugged helplessly, equally as frustrated as your precious skeleton boyfriend. “No, Sans, you don’t understand! This IS my fault! It’s MY fault because I didn’t do a good enough job protecting everyone and I didn’t save everyone and I couldn’t get the humans to love the monsters as much as I do and I was just a kid when I took this job, how could they expect I could do it? But I tried! I tried real hard! And I’m failing. This is all my fault—”

He pressed his teeth to your lips as a way to silence you. And oddly enough, despite your near hysteria, you responded well to it.

He pushed a little harder into you, his hands wandering along your sides and up into your hair. You trailed your hands up and down his ribs, the fabric of his shirt worn and soft. Your mouth opened slightly into the kiss and he took the opportunity to bite your lip, pulling slightly and causing you to sigh with pleasure.

Then his hand was up and under your shirt and feeling the soft squishiness of your skin and pinching here, rubbing there, and ah, that felt good, what was he doing? You couldn’t think quite clearly. Hadn’t you been mad at him? Oh, but you just wanted him to keep doing what he was doing.

_What is going on?_

The voice broke up your thoughts you sprang back from as though you’d been burned. The both of you were breathing heavily, his face flushed blue with pleasure and happiness and yours from embarrassment.

_Disgusting._

You tried not to react, it was hard not to react, but you couldn’t do anything—not in front of Sans. He didn’t need more reasons to be worried about you.

But could you do this alone? You wanted to help everyone… how could you do it if you couldn’t help yourself?

It didn’t matter, did it? You didn’t matter. _You don’t matter._

“frisk, babe, you okay? kid, look at me?” Sans voice sounded worried and you glanced up at him with confusion. You hadn’t realized that in the time you’d been lost in your thoughts, you’d ended up on the floor, your hands around your ears and tears in your eyes.

How could you not have noticed this? How had you not realized you’d moved?

“I-I’m fine, I’m sorry for worrying you. I just keep thinking about… just worried about everyone else.” You mumbled sheepishly, “Sorry, Sans.”

“i’m sorry, i won’t do… i won’t kiss you like that again…” He sounded hurt.

_Good._

“No!” You said, a little too hastily, “Er, I, uh, no, Sans, that’s not it at all.”

He felt conflicted, like he wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or sigh. If it wasn’t that, then what was it? You’d been kissing him then suddenly you were on the floor, almost in tears, and whispering an angry “no, no, no, no…” What else would it have been?

He narrowed his eyes and you withered underneath his gaze. His mind was running a mile a minute. He didn’t want to think that perhaps… you’d been different ever since coming back from Mount Ebott.

It’d only been a few days, but somehow, you’d get angry so easily, you’d get frustrated and mad and irritated. You didn’t have the endless patience and kindness you always had. Instead, you had a sort of semi-permanent scowl on your face. And though it hadn’t happened often, occasionally your face would scrunch up as though some unpleasant thought was running through your mind.

He tried not to be suspicious but there was no denying that the situation had been weird.

You were saved from having to explain by Toriel entering the room with an exceedingly flustered Flowey in her arms. For whatever reason, though you were pretty sure you knew why, Toriel had managed to get on Flowey’s good side.

It was almost cute, even if he still managed to be a bit of a pain at times. You’d heard her gently scolding him the other day and his only response was, “Whatever, _mom_.”

“Frisk, my child, are you alright? I trust that you would tell me if something were not right…” She trailed off, coughed, then continued, “I think we need to go back into the police station…”

“Ah, but, uhm, momma, I need to meet up with Alex today. He called and wanted to talk.” You could sense Sans tense behind you, but ignored it in favor of smiling pleadingly at Toriel.

She seemed to think for a moment before giving a short nod. While she liked the boy, she was not pleased when she’d found out he was the reason you’d ended up on Mount Ebott.

You’d even tried to explain to her that it wasn’t his fault, that you’d coerced him, but she wouldn’t have any of that. She blamed him. You were pretty sure Sans did, too.

Thankfully though, Alex hadn’t been angry with you, just worried. And he didn’t mind that your monster family—as he called them—blamed him. He blamed himself a little too, for letting you go up there.

“Ah, alright, my dear, perhaps I will take a moment to talk to Sans.” You nodded and promptly left them to it. Toriel took a moment to busy herself, putting Flowey in another room and ignoring his false threats and insults before returning. The air was thick with tension.

Sans swallowed uncomfortably and glanced up at Toriel with a somewhat apprehensive expression. What had he done wrong? He’d be lying if he wasn’t a little bit afraid of Toriel. When she became “momma bear,” she was quite terrifying. And hoo boy, she’d had a few moments like that.

But as of right now… he wasn’t quite sure why she was giving him that stern look.

“What is wrong with my child?” She asked quietly.

“what, tori?”

“You saw them! Frisk, I am afraid my child is not well. What happened? They said they went to Mount Ebott but they will not tell me why, nor do they tell me who Flowey is and why he was down there…” She paused, seemingly to think out her next words, “I know you know… You must know, Frisk trusts you beyond anything.”

“tori, i don’t think they’re telling anyone…” he stopped himself short when she narrowed her eyes at him, “er, tori, really, i don’t know why they’re different from coming back from mount ebott. i swear… it’s no fibula.”

Maybe a joke wasn’t the best idea, but he’d gotten out of trouble plenty of times by making a silly pun or joke—Toriel, even angry, couldn’t resist a bad pun or two…

But obviously it was quite serious. Her mouth didn’t even twitch.

“heh… i guess that wasn’t very humerus.”

“ _Sans.”_

“ah… heh… tori…” He sputtered, growing more and more nervous.

She continued to glare and finally he relented.

“what do you want to know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	36. Baby Doll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am very sleepy and stressed but no worries, here is another chapter//
> 
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You had a plan. You had an agenda. Well... Maybe… You _sort of_ had a plan. You _sort of_ had an agenda.

You were walking down the straight, hood of your sweatshirt pulled up to keep the light rain from messing up your hair. Not that you were the most particular about appearances, but honestly, it just wouldn’t do to meet Alex with some crazy frizzy hair. Not that… it, er… mattered.

Okay, well, you were intimidated by him. He was the conventionally attractive protagonist, or maybe the love interest, that you’d find in most teen romance novels. And though you had Sans, and you were incredibly happy with Sans, it was still… intimidating to be around someone like Alex.

Though, the more you got to know him the more he turned out to be a rather mellow… fellow.

The café was warm, colorful, and bustling which was a stark contrast to the gray skies outside and dreary, empty streets. A soft chime from the bell atop the door caused a slight lull in the conversation as a few people turned to look at the entrance. You, apparently, weren’t exactly impressive because after a once over from a few people they returned to their various conversations.

You weren’t offended, you didn’t feel like you were much to look at in any case. What was important was the café, this meeting, and the next few hours of your life. They would be crucial to your blossoming plans.

You’d come here with an apology and a proposition—one you’d been considering off and on for a while, though, not quite in this sense… and really, it’d mostly been other people who’d suggested it to you. They, mostly Sans, kept telling you to quit being the ambassador, kept saying that someone else could take over.

They said it stressed you out too much. That it didn’t need to be your responsibility.

And you were just now starting to believe them.

But still, you couldn’t just give up this job, this responsibility all of a sudden. You couldn’t leave them with no one.

So, part one of your “brilliant” plan was to apologize to Alex. Then, to test the waters with a suggestion or two… also, you wanted to talk to him about something you were _sure_ Sans would say no to—not that Sans controlled you or anything, but, he could be pretty… er, convincing when he needed to be.

_Why do you care so much? It’d be impressive if it weren’t so ann—_

“Stop!” You yelled, a little louder than you’d meant to. Some of the people in the coffee shop gave you odd looks but you pulled the hood tighter over your head and ducked your chin.

As though trying to sink in on yourself you curled your knees to your chest, your shins resting against the edge of the table and your feet on the plush cushion of the booth you were currently seated in.

 _Fine, whatever._ The voice sounded bored and just the slightest bit peeved. You just felt cold with its whisperings. It reminded you too much of other timelines.

It made you remember the things you’d been trying to forget. It made you remember the reason why sometimes you woke up with a scream rising from your throat and tears in your eyes. It wasn’t fair that a voice like that could have coerced, controlled, or pushed you into any of the things you’d done.

It wasn’t fair that after years of radio silence from them, one trip to the Underground and suddenly they’re back in full force. They hadn’t even bothered to answer your question as to why the hell they were here in the first place! Had they been lying dormant? Was it because you’d gone back to find Flowey?

You weren’t sure. All you knew was that you found yourself afraid to sleep at night. What if they could take over? What if they did things you didn’t want them to do? What if? What if’s were the only things that you could think about.

“Hey Frisk!” A cheery voice ripped you from your worries and you blinked up at Alex’s smiling face. You could see the worry in his eyes, but thankfully he didn’t seem to be questioning you. You weren’t sure you were ready to talk about… _them._

You signed a hello and he nodded his understanding before sitting in the booth across from you.

“You want anything?” He asked, trying to fill your silence. You shrugged and he rolled his eyes before standing again. He was so fidgety today, up, down, up, over to the counter, fiddling with his hands and the zipper on his black hoodie the whole time. He got some kind of hot drink for himself and an iced tea for you.

He set it down in front of you before he began to play with the stirring stick that was in his own cup. One sip of the tea told you it was unsweetened green tea, just how you liked it.

“Is it okay? I couldn’t remember if you liked it with sugar or not…” He trailed off, meeting your eyes before quickly looking away. You nodded, then realizing he wasn’t looking at you, waved your hand until you got his attention again.

With a slight smile turned smirk on your face you nodded and mouthed a quick thank you. He smiled briefly then his eyes flitted away, down onto the table that was apparently “oh so interesting” because even when you cleared your throat he wouldn’t look up.

You let silence fall, hoping that whatever he was struggling to say or not say would resolve itself quickly. You still had your agenda, you couldn’t spend all day here.

Though, speaking of which, you still had yet to apologize. You cleared your throat again, took a sip of tea, some of it dribbling down your chin as you opened your mouth too quickly.

Right as the first syllables of your apology left your mouth he cut you off with his own haste and desperate sounding “I’m sorry!”

You tried not to look too surprised by it, but you couldn’t help it. When you gave him a questioning look he only shrugged.

“I’m sorry I left you at the mountain, I didn’t realize it’d be that dangerous, ya know?” You nodded, eyes narrowing slightly, “I heard about that woman, rumors said she was your relative or something. You’ve never talked about her… like, people kept texting me and asking if I knew the woman or if you knew them…”

He paused and bit his lip, his eyes trained upward as he thought out his next words.

“You know her… the news said that she was your, uh, biological mother, right?” You nodded, your face impassive, “I’m sorry she was taken…”

You shook your head and flapped your hand at him, attempting to get him to stop talking for just a moment. Quietly you muttered, “I’m sorry I asked you to do something dangerous…”

He seemed surprised by your apology, but the surprise turned into a smile fairly quickly, “I was so relieved when you texted me. I was… worried… also, not to be selfish, ha, but I was scared your family would come after me…”

He gave you a look, a slight smirk on his face, “’specially that skele-monster…”

You couldn’t help your slight blush, but tried to fight down the burning warmth on your face.

“Er, y-yeah…” You smiled shyly, then started signing, _“I’m sorry, again. They would not do anything to you…”_ your hands faltered for a moment, _“I think.”_

His brows were furrowed as he watched your slow movements. He’d picked up a sign language book from the library and had been studying it some off and on to help his skills. Thankfully you always signed especially slow for him, you even mouthed each word as you moved; it was nice.

“Don’t be sorry, Frisk, okay?” He shrugged, “I was just worried if anything. It’s chill now, okay?”

You nodded, your hair bobbing with the movement.

Somehow, despite you knowing that all of this… wasn’t _over_ —and maybe it never would be over—you felt better. Like a worry was off your chest. You were able to say sorry. You were able to tell someone sorry, and they were able to forgive you.

It felt more real coming from him than it did from the monsters. It was hard at times, most of them felt so much gratitude to you for freeing the Underground that they could never fault you… They would always forgive you. It was unconditional, and it wasn’t something you wanted or deserved.

You wanted them to like you, not because you’d saved them but because they liked _you._ And yeah, you knew Sans… you knew Toriel, Sans, Papyrus, Alphys, Undyne, Asgore, Mettaton… you knew they _loved_ you and believed in you.

But having them forgive you? It was like a script. If you said lines a through c, then they’d follow up with lines d through f and everything would be fine. There was no deviation because they’d always forgive you.

But people like Alex. The people on the surface. These people that you hadn’t just spent an eternity with… well, they were so different. They were unreadable and you had to fly blind in a sense. There was no “take backs,” no second chance.

So when you could receive forgiveness from someone of the surface like Alex somehow meant much more than it coming from someone who was… who was just _meant_ to love you.

The two of you chatted back and forth for a while you sipped your drinks. You were avoiding the big topic of why you’d brought him here. And soon enough hours had passed and you found yourself outside the café walking home without having asked him anything of relevance.

“Fuck.” You sighed, feeling the uncomfortable warmth of frustration settle in your gut.

You didn’t like the feeling, but you were getting used to it. It was a weird thing, being unable to control your emotions like you used to. You used to be so happy and cheery, with the occasional spiral into darkness, but now you were just filled with… it wasn’t hate, no it wasn’t hate. But it was like… hate’s younger sibling.

Some emotion that couldn’t be named, a mix of jealousy, envy, anger, frustration, tiredness, boredom… apathy. But not apathy. You had nothing to be jealous of.

You didn’t need to feel bored, either. Life was so… so much… drama. It was too dramatic, too stressful, how could you find it boring?

But it was. And you couldn’t help but think that way.

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped walking until someone bumped your shoulder as they hurried down the walk, their head trained onto their phone, fingers flying furiously across the screen. You bit down your snarky remark and instead took a moment to register where you were.

When you looked at the building, your heart plummeted and you face blanched. You were standing, dumbfounded, in front of your mother’s apartment complex. When you looked at your phone to check the time you realized you’d been walking for a couple hours.

You had a missed call from Sans.

He’d been so clingy lately. Ugh.

The thought struck you as odd and you frowned. There was nothing wrong with him being worried for you. It was just because he loved you.

_So pathetic._

No! It wasn’t pathetic… it was sweet… he just cared. _It wasn’t like he was just trying to make sure… you didn’t do something rash… it wasn’t like he was just trying to make you happy so you wouldn’t fuck up his life again._ He wouldn’t do that, right?

Your stomach churned uncomfortably and you felt sick. It took you a moment to realize you’d begun to move again. Was it your conscious or subconscious driving you? Or… or, was it something else?

You felt like you were losing control.

Had time passed again? Somehow it was too hard to tell, but the lack of sun in the sky gave you your answer. You were no longer in front of your mother’s apartment building, instead you were somewhere you didn’t recognize.

You pulled out your phone again, another missed call from Sans, and a voicemail with it this time. You ignored the message, instead opting to just call him.

He picked up before the first ring could even stop, “kid, you’re killin’ me.”

“Ha… sorry, Sans… uhm, this is odd, but, can you pick me up?”

“what? sure, no problem…” he paused and you heard static from the phone as he shuffled it from one hand to the other, “where you at?”

“Uh… hah… that’s a good question, I’m not sure.”

Silence.

“Sans?”

Nothing, though you could hear something happening in the background of the call; it wasn’t loud enough for you to pick it up.

Suddenly he was back, sounding strained, “i’ll need a landmark or something, or street signs, or really… uhm, anything? you sure know how to rattle these ol’ bones, dontcha, kiddo?”

You laughed lightly, the noise was hollow and empty, but he didn’t question it, or maybe he didn’t notice it. “Kiddo? Kid? What, have I been downgraded? Gee, let me down lightly, won’t you?”

It was his turn to laugh, and unlike your own, his was genuine, if not a little worried, “Sorry, _babe._ Didn’t realize you liked these little pet names, _doll._ ”

You snorted, “Sans… please…”

“ _sweetheart. love. sunshine…_ want me to keep ‘em comin’?” His voice was deep and sultry and you took the bait.

“Nah, but I’d like you to keep me coming.”

You laughed at his sharp intake of breath, “heh, babe, you really know how to rattle my bones.”

“I can rattle ‘em a little more if you’d like,” your voice was even and something akin to a seductive purr, “that is, if you can come pick me up.”

A little more talking and he had a vague idea of your location. The conversation, though nice in its own way, felt wrong. It wasn’t like you. You weren’t one to be smooth with jokes or flirting. Normally you would have been a flustered and stuttering mess when it came to sexual innuendos. But it’d been so easy— _so easy to play him like a fiddle._


	37. Nothing Left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my chapter titles are just as lame as me
> 
> [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/chichiluffsyou?ty=h)  
> If you'd like to contact me for any reason at all, or want updates on stories and the like, follow me at my tumblr below:  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

Another body, another day, but oddly enough, no one had gone missing. In fact, someone had an attempted kidnapping, and though they couldn’t identify their attackers, they did manage to get the police on the scene fairly quickly.

Sans hadn’t questioned you too much why you were in a small and nearly abandoned villa about a mile outside of Mount Ebott, he also hadn’t questioned the odd knapsack you had slung over your back, nor the cut that had appeared on your leg—well, he’d actually questioned that one a lot, but only to confirm you hadn’t done it on purpose.

You could tell though. He was tense. He had been tense the entire ride back home, and had dropped you off with nothing more than a quick peck on the cheek and a short “g’night.”

You tried not to take it personally. After all, you’d just asked him to drive about four miles in the middle of the night to come pick you up after ignoring his calls and not talking to him all day. He was allowed to be grumpy… though, _it was kind of childish._

Somewhere in the back of your mind you had the sense that you should be frantic right now. You should be trying to save your mother. You should be trying to save all of the kidnap victims. You should be in tears over the news that another dead body had washed up… yet, oddly enough, you didn’t feel very upset.

Actually, you felt quite fine about it all. _It wasn’t your problem; so why should you care?_

And the more you thought about it in that sense, the easier it was to distance yourself from the situation. It wasn’t _your_ responsibility to take care of a crime came. That’s what the police were for. You didn’t need to worry about it anymore than you already had.

Sans would be so proud of you, finally putting yourself first.

Toriel had called you down from your room around noon. You hadn’t joined her for breakfast, and you honestly hadn’t been planning on going down there for lunch. But, really, you couldn’t deny the sweet, old goat-mom.

So here you were, an empty bowl in one hand and two eggs clutched tenderly in the other. She’d decided that the two of you weren’t spending enough time together. She wanted to “bond,” or something like that.

You tried not to feel irritated—you had more important things you could be doing!

So instead, you smiled and smiled and smiled, trying not to think of this little baking session as a waste of time. She was having you make cookies—a new recipe of hers, cinnamon butter-scotch cookies—while she worked on a big meal for the friends that would be coming over later that day.

Alphys and Undyne had come back from whatever trip they’d been on. You hadn’t even known they were gone until Toriel had brought it up earlier that morning when she’d checked in on you. Supposedly, they’d be here in an hour or so.

So, you spent your time gathering ingredients, measuring out each individual part and putting the wet ingredients in one bowl and the dry in another. You also snuck a few chocolate chips into the mix—also a few into your mouth.

Toriel noticed, but only laughed, her smile radiant. She seemed better than she had in the past few days. Like she was lighter—maybe she was relieved you weren’t holed up in your room, or that you were seemingly normal.

Before you started to combine anything Toriel set a gentle paw on your shoulder and asked for your assistance with the large pot pie she was working on. You were eager to please and bustled around the kitchen helping her gather, wash, and cut vegetables. You grabbed the spices she wanted, stole a few tastes of the sauce with a spoon and snuck a bite of the chicken she was using for the filling.

It tasted heavenly. In between bites of food and casual discussions of life you found yourself popping more and more of the chocolate chips into your mouth, letting their bitter sweetness melt in your mouth.

“I didn’t know you had such a taste for chocolate, my dear, you remind me of a loved one right now.” Toriel’s smile was bright but her eyes held a sort of longing you hadn’t been prepared for.

Part of you wanted to call out and tell her you loved her too, part of you was confused, most of you just wanted another bite of chocolate. It felt like it had been years since you’d had it—like it’d been centuries, eons, since you’d had a taste, and you found yourself craving it.

The doorbell rang out loudly and broke the moment. Toriel busied herself with letting a boisterous Undyne in and a timid looking Alphys.

“Hey PUNK! Missed you so much, kiddo, you missed me too, huh?” The blue fish monster sprang into the house and practically flew over to you as she scooped you up into a lung crushingly tight hug. Weakly you patted her back and wheezed out a quiet “hello.”

Alphys was much easier to greet, what with her being a lot more mellow and lot less aggressive than Undyne, but she still grabbed you in a tight hug as well. “We, uh, we missed you, Frisk. Heard somethin’ happened and we were really worried, you know? Ah, well, uhm, do you want to like, uhm, a new anime came out recently…” she trailed off, cheeks flushed with some combination of excitement and worry.

You gave her a strained smile that you hoped passed for happy. She seemed to buy it, looking incredibly relieved, before she shuffled off the follow Undyne who had already bounded into the living room. A few minutes and a very disheveled looking Asgore came in, along with an incredibly loud and talkative Papyrus. Sans hesitated a bit in the doorway, his cheeks flushed blue as he glanced around looking for you, and once he spotted you he flashed you a quick smile before following Paps into the other room.

Asgore strode gracefully over to you and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. Toriel greeted him with a smile but he only gave a weak wave to Toriel.

“Papyrus is quite the energetic fellow, haha.” It seemed that was all he was willing to say about his tired state and you couldn’t help but laugh in agreement. Papyrus was a tiring monster to be around— _he was annoying too._

No, not annoying, just a little, er, _much_ sometimes.

“Are you ready to start the cookies, my child? I will go out and entertain for a bit if you are alright in the kitchen on your own.”

You nodded quickly and she swept out of the room, Asgore following shortly after.

You turned to the two bowls and the mostly empty bag of chocolate chips before shrugging and grabbing another package. It wouldn’t hurt to treat yourself to the rest of the chocolate, right? You could just use another for the cookies.

You grabbed the whisk and stabbed at the yellow yolks before flicking you’re the whisk around the bowl a few times to mix it a little. You poured the wet ingredients into the dry, stirring all the while. Soon enough it was looking less like a lumpy mess and more like a creamy cookie dough mixture.

You took a test taste of the dough and hummed in approval. Sweet, but not too sweet.

It took only a moment to grab a cookie sheet and spray it with nonstick before plopping ball after ball of cookie dough onto it. Two trays later and you were done.

You could light music coming from the living room and a tinkling laughter as well. It sounded so nice… it sounded so dull. It was something you felt like you’d heard a thousand times before—maybe in a way, you had. After all, you’d lived with them so many times before, even if you hadn’t come quite this far in other timelines.

Your thoughts bumbled around your head awkwardly as you absentmindedly straightened up the kitchen.

They were probably talking about something dumb, maybe they were watching that glorified calculator on the television or something. Either way, it couldn’t be anything _that_ interesting.

You grabbed the sack of flour, and pulled it off the counter. The corned caught on something and you heard the tearing of paper more than you could see it. Thinking quickly, you pushed the bottom of the sack against your shirt and laid it gently on its side.

You grabbed a large plastic canister and a lid and began to scoop flour into the container. You tried to ignore the weird texture of the flour. It was so soft. Fluffy. Familiar. Part of you wanted to play in it, to let the bag fall onto the floor and to kick it around and roll around in the powdery dust.

You shook your head, pushing the idea away, and finished putting the rest of the flour in its new canister. You put that in the pantry and turned to clean up any remaining piles of dust—er, flour.

It took you a moment to notice that the front of your shirt was powdery white. You stood, staring longingly down at your front for a moment before suddenly your hands were clawing, clawing, clawing at the front of your shirt and it was being stretched this way and that and the dust, no it was flour, it was still just flour, was covering the palms of your hands and it was on your feet too, and you felt the urge to dance and sing and frolic through the dust, to feel the sensation of it against your skin, to see how each pile differed from the other.

There was a searing pain in your side and you found yourself collapsed against the cabinets, a dull butter knife shoved deep into the side of your stomach. Blood. Blood. Blood. The color of your blood was like that of your soul, and for a moment you wanted to try and pull that out and see what would happen if you tried to stab it too.

But the pain was back and you doubled over, hissing through gritted teeth as a warm and wet liquid trickled from your side. It was staining your shorts, that was no good, you’d have to get new ones.

You tried to think about how you’d gotten to this point, and suddenly it felt like a dozen memories you hadn’t known you had suddenly came flooding back. The flour had spilled. The flour was so much like dust. You liked to play with dust. You also liked to play with knives. A knife? They were all over, but the sharper ones were out of reach, god, being short was such a hassle. It was okay though, in the drawer, yes, there, _knives._

_The weight of the handle was more comforting than the warmest of hugs you’d received. Finally. Finally. Finally. You had it back in your clutches. You glanced down at your dirtied and stretched out clothes and sighed bitterly. Sure, flour was fun and all, but it was pretty much all the same._

_You wondered, had their dust changed? Would it be the same scent and same texture it’d been in the Underground? Maybe it was different. Now was the best time to find out, after all, they were all just sitting ducks in the living room._

_You took a step forward, but something else held you back. A sense of guilt and apprehension that wasn’t yours but was yours. You took another forward, but as your mind was focused on making your feet move forward, your hands were moving of their own accord._

_Pain. Indescribable pain. It was almost nice, but you could feel your control slipping._

“Shit, shit, shit.” You tried not to scream as you slid the knife out from your side. The wound was pushing forth too much blood, this was not good, would you die here? How was it that after all you’d survived a self-inflicted knife wound would be what finally put you down?

How pitiful.

You pressed your hands down on your now numb side, but you couldn’t do much more than just watch the dark crimson blood ooze from between your fingers and seep down onto the pristine white tiles of the floor. It pooled by your body, making your legs feel sticky and uncomfortable. You didn’t dare move though, that’d only make it worse, right?

“so frisk, they’re gonna start a movie soon, if you wanna join us.” A voice called from the entryway of the kitchen. His head was turned away from you, still watching whatever happened to be on the television at that time, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.

“frisk?” he questioned, voice dipping slightly with worry. He looked around the kitchen then his eyes settled down on you and you watched as panic flashed across his face.

“wait, shit, what?”

You smiled at him weakly, one hand pressed on the wound, the other waving around awkwardly, as casually as you could despite the circumstance you mumbled out, “I… I mean… I know I like… just stabbed myself and all, but really, it’s fine… ha… it’s cool. I’m just giving myself a BAD TIME. Ha… haha… geddit?” Your smile was manic but your voice was faltering and tired.

He practically leaped at you, pressing his own bony hands into your wound, alternating between muttering “shit, fuck, shit” and “god, frisk, please, just stay awake, k?”

You laughed again, despite none of this being funny, “This was not… heh… I was not planning on pouring out my soul to you like this… ha… haha… god, I’m hilarious.”

His eye was glowing, the other eye a dark abyss into nothingness, and he tried to ignore your babbled jokes and puns as he focused on doing what little healing he had the ability to do.

You were beginning to lose the fight to stay awake. Your voice weaker and weaker until all that you had left were quiet whines and hissed groans.

Then the world faded to black—the image of a bloodied and worried Sans hovering over your face was burned into your mind. But a second later and that faded away too.

There was nothing left.


	38. Truth Between Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ///sceaming/// we're getting closer and closer to the end wowie
> 
> If you'd like to support me in my writing adventure (though there is no pressure to), please follow the link below:  
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Your guests had been forced to leave. You were brought to the emergency room, still bleeding, with a hysterical Papyrus holding you on his lap as Toriel practically floored it the hospital. Asgore and Sans had opted to stay behind in order to clean up the mess.

Sans was his own form of inconsolable as he switched constantly between “god, i fucked up, why wasn’t i watching them?” and “what the actual fuck just happened?”

Asgore, on the other hand, was intimidatingly silent. Whenever he did speak his tone was sharp and callous. It was entirely unlike the normally gentle and jovial monster Sans had come to known. He wasn’t quite sure how to deal with the switch in personality. Not that Sans blamed Asgore for it, though. Sans was just as upset.

He couldn’t even begin to comprehend why and when and what had happened. Had this been because of whatever it was you’d been going through? If he’d known that it was this bad, he would have stepped in to try and talk to you sooner—he would have tried harder to get you to tell him the truth. Had it been his fault? Had he not been keeping a close enough eye on you? Had he not been reassuring enough to you?

It wasn’t his fault, logic told him that, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was. He couldn’t help but think he should have done more to help you.

The kitchen was clean and he paced around the living room. He was filled with a useless sense of urgency and filled to the brim with nervous energy. Toriel had texted all of one message which merely said “here.” She’d said she would update him if anything big happened, but he couldn’t help but feel extremely worried.

Asgore was siting listlessly, a cup of untouched tea set on the coffee table beside him. He was staring blankly at the empty television screen and Sans hadn’t even bothered trying to make small talk.

Sans phone buzzed and he picked it up and flicked it open with lightning speed—Asgore was up and beside Sans in a second.

The text was short and to the point: Frisk woke up.

Sans closed his eyes, reaching with his soul, and when he opened them he was standing a block down from the hospital you’d been taken to. He’d left Asgore alone in the house, but he didn’t feel all that guilty about it, you were his first priority, not the old king of monsters. Besides, he could get here on his own if he really needed.

Sans was trying not to just sprint up to your floor and room, but instead was attempting to be well behaved and calm, even asking the lady wth curly gray hair at the front desk where you were at. You’d been in surgery for the past few hours, something about stitches, something about recovery, he wasn’t exactly paying attention. After she’d said the room number he’d taken off, not even bothering to listen to the rest of her little speech.

His sneakers squeaked awkwardly across the linoleum floors of the hospital and he tried not to shudder from the overly bland and sterile surroundings. He didn’t hear the cries of the families around, nor the cheers, nor the silence. He couldn’t focus on anything around him because all he could think of was your pale face and the blood that had been smeared on your forehead and just below your chin.

All he could process was the fact that you were, by some miracle, still alive and maybe not okay, but you would be. He hoped, at least.

The hall felt never ending as he trudged toward your room, counting the numbers as they passed by. He paused outside your door, listening quietly at the entrance for a moment before shuffling inside awkwardly inside.

You’d been sitting on the bed, feeling so doped up on drugs that you couldn’t quite focus on anything in particular, when Sans walked in, a sheepish expression on his face. Toriel was sitting in the chair by your bed side, both her large and soft paws wrapped around one of your hands. A nurse was fluttering about, taking notes in a large clipboard and hmm’ing his disproval with various things that you didn’t quite understand. You tried not to question it.

Your head felt like mush, but other than that you felt alright, as long as you stayed still you couldn’t feel the throbbing pain in your side. By some miracle the dull blade had missed vital organs, instead just piercing your fatty tissue. So, sure, it hurt like hell, and the blood loss was dangerous, but thankfully, you didn’t manage to ruin your insides too badly.

They’d pulled your semiconscious body into surgery to check for internal bleeding, to sew you up, to make sure you would be okay. Thankfully, you were okay. Thankfully, you hadn’t hurt anyone. Thankfully, you had control again.

But you didn’t feel thankful at all. Wouldn’t it have been easier if you’d died there and then?

Toriel coughed awkwardly, drawing you from your thoughts. She squeezed your hand comfortingly and mumbled a quick excuse as she got up to leave. She’d been so stoic recently, but you were grateful for her strength.

With Toriel gone and the chair unoccupied, Sans slid beside you and grabbed your hand between his two skeletal ones. He pressed a toothy kiss to your knuckles and studied you, as though trying to puzzle you out.

As you lay there, with Sans holding your free hand and the nurse switching out your bloodied bandages, you felt a heaviness settle over your mind. This was just too much. You’d thought that perhaps it would be okay… you’d just thought that maybe you’d be able to control _them_ without it being a big deal… without something tragic happening.

“what happened, frisk? i thought i’d lost you… again.”

The nurse looked between the two of you before finishing his work and leaving you to your selves.

You studied the iv that was pressed into your arm, staring at the liquid that was being slowly pumped into your body. You didn’t really know the words for what had happened and every time you tried to remember more of everything your head would start to pound and you’d lose concentration.

You did remember some things though. You remember struggling with them for control. You remember stalling them long enough to attack yourself.

“I’m not sure,” you lied, not meeting his gaze.

“frisk. i don’t believe that for a sec.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp and waved them helplessly in the air, “Ha… you got me… I’m kind of sure but kind of not.”

He stayed silent, waiting for you to shed light on the situation.

“I mean like, it’s not a big deal, ha… just… I have been feeling some sort of… strange… ever since…” You trailed off, head down and eyes burning with tears. You felt so ashamed for hiding this from him. A small part of you felt irritated that he was forcing you to tell him.

“since you came down from the mountain?”

You nodded. His hands flew up to his skull and he raked them down the sides, sighing with exasperation.

“what does that _mean_ , frisk?” He paused. He knew what it meant, but he wanted to hear it from you first.

“I’m not sure what it means. I… I thought… I thought it was _over._ ” You stressed the last word, your voice cracking slightly, “I thought I’d _saved_ you guys finally…But I guess… I guess not.” _I failed everyone,_ the words you couldn’t say reverberated around your head.

Sans raised his brow bone at you, skepticism shining in his white pupils.

There was no easy for this to be said. So it was better just to say it.

And so you did.

“They’re back… Cha—” Your throat closed on itself as you tried to say the name. As fast as the pressure on your lungs and neck had come, it had left.

Sans said what you were unable, “Chara is back.” Your hand twitched of its own accord, as though you were about to smack him, but you managed to stop it. His eyes were questioning, but his tone made it sound like a statement. You nodded anyways.

“I don’t know what to do,” your voice sounded as weak and helpless as you felt.

“it’s okay, babe, we… frisk, we will figure this out…” He was trying to assure you, but it only made you feel worse.

“No! Sans! It’s not your responsibility! It’s mine… and… I failed you guys. I failed everyone. I’m going to ruin everyone’s life! It’s not okay…” Your voice was bordering on hysteria and he quickly hushed you, glancing furtively at the open doorway.

“we have to be quiet for now… but… frisk, it’s not your fault… you know that, right?”

You shrugged, not wanting to say no because you didn’t know it wasn’t your fault. You felt like yes, it was your fault. You should have been strong enough to fight their influence. You wanted to say yes because you knew it wasn’t your choice; you weren’t actively deciding to be a nuisance, to be a bad person. You weren’t trying to become a murderer. You just happened to be one.

Ha. In your head like this, it sounded so casual, like it wasn’t a big deal, like you didn’t have blood and dust on your hands, like you hadn’t gone back in time to kill your friends and family just because you _could._

But that wasn’t really why you had done it. You had done it because there had been some larger force in play. Because some higher being had told you to pick up the knife and satiate their curiosities. They wanted to know what the dust of their beloved friends looked like. They wanted to know every side of their friends. And you were nothing but a pawn, stuck in the middle.

Sans grabbed your hands in his own, somehow sensing your spiraling thoughts. “frisk, just tell me everything, okay?”

And so you did.


	39. Nothingness is a Blessing and a Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to support me in my writing adventure (though there is no pressure to), please follow the link below:  
> [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/chichiluffsyou?ty=h)  
> If you'd like to contact me for any reason at all, or want updates on stories and the like, follow me at my tumblr below:  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

You were home within two days of the trip to the emergency room. It was a relief to finally lay in your own bed and cuddle in the warmth of your blankets with a very noticeable lack of the stiff and sterile atmosphere of a hospital surrounding you.

Nothing like spending a few nights in an unfamiliar and uncomfortable room with beeping machinery all around to make you really appreciate small comforts of home. You hadn’t heard much from Chara, though in the space between your trip to the hospital and returning home both you and Sans had been looking up any and all records of Chara and their family. The name was unusual, but not _that_ uncommon, so it had been slow going while searching through several family names and lines.

You also had Sans look up the street and town he’d picked you up from the other day—though it felt like it had been weeks ago. It had taken a while but he had managed to find the place again. The day after you’d returned home he’d taken a short trip to the lonely, old village you’d wound up in previously. It had been quite the interesting visit, but nothing new had really come up.

Meanwhile, under orders from both Sans and Toriel, you’d been taking it easy.

Toriel had even suggested that you resign from your position as ambassador. Sans had told you that they’d had a talk, but you still weren’t sure how much your kind goat mother actually knew. Based on the knowing looks she gave you when she thought you weren’t looking; she probably knew a little more than you wanted her to.

Chara must have been just as exhausted as you were because they seemed to be fairly quiet, which seemed unusual, if anything. The only thing that hinted at them still being present was the fact that you still had an intense craving for chocolate... But that wasn't all. You couldn't stop looking at the knives. The scissors. You tried to limit your contact with anything sharp... but... it was so tempting.

These wants sometimes led you to considering your old habit of cutting. Would it be so… bad? Yes, you told yourself, it would be bad. You tried to ignore the little whisperings in the back of your mind that told you to do it.

You weren’t sure if you should resign from your job, or maybe you just weren’t sure if you wanted to. If you had the job they would still love you and need you… if you didn’t… well, wouldn’t they realize how useless you are?

Originally… well, originally your plan had been to find the next best person to take over your position and give it over to them, but after everything that had happened in the span of just a few days, you wondered if that had been Chara’s influence. Maybe they were trying to isolate you from your job and your friends.

It would make sense. Or maybe you were trying to isolate yourself. You couldn't tell one emotion from the next any more.

You wanted to not have the responsibility of ambassador—you wanted to be a normal adult who was focused on going to university and getting a job and having a lot of friends, not one who was constantly concerned they might reverse the flow of time and wind up as a child again hoping to play their cards right until they win the game again (and again).

When you thought about it that way, it made you wonder if this had already happened. Had there been a time when you’d made it to the surface and Chara took over again? Had you played this route before? Or was it uncharted territory?

You might never know.

Your phone buzzed, alerting you to a phone call.

“frisk,” Sans said by way of greeting, you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“the house? it is in chara’s family. the town… it’s something pretty old, the fallen child’s old home. couldn’t find anything about current relatives, just that they used to live there—chara, that is. chara used to live there.” He kept the information brief and once he knew you’d gotten it all he hung up with nothing more than a quick “m’kay, bye, love you.”

As you were about to walk downstairs, Toriel was heading up them, a look of fierce determination on her face.

“Ah, my child, I was just about to go get you. I think that we have some things to discuss, no? Let us talk over a cup of tea, my dear, come with me.” Her voice was light and airy and motherly as always, but the tone held something in it that told you this wasn’t a request.

All you could think as you followed her down the carpeted staircase was that Toriel had somehow found out about Flowey… or worse, about yourself.

You swung your legs casually back and forth as you fidgeted awkwardly on the dining room chair you were perched on. Toriel was busying herself in the kitchen and you watched from the other room. You hadn’t been in the kitchen since the incident, the place gave you chills. For obvious reasons you tried to avoid it.

Thankfully it was clean, you wondered who had done that?

“So, my child, Frisk, I had an interesting discussion with Sans… Ah, well, give me one moment, please.” She moved from the kitchen and passed you by to head into the living room. She was back a second later though with a very irritable flower grasped in her paws.

“I think it would do to talk to the both of you.”

You felt a cold sweat gathering at the back of your neck. This was _not_ what you had expected.

“Sans would not tell me much of anything, he said it would be better for you to say. He said that this little flower—”

“I have a name, you know!” Flowey interrupted petulantly.

She gave him a sour look and he clamped his mouth shut, “Flowey might know more, as well. What happened under the mountain, my child? Please, remember that you can always trust me; I will protect you.”

You nodded, feeling guilt nip and bite at your insides.

“I’m sorry, mom…”

She shook her head, pulling a chair out to sit beside you while setting Flowey down on the table itself. “Do not be sorry, Frisk, I just want to be able to help you, child, please, just trust me.”

You sighed tiredly, nodding in resignation, “I… What do you know?”

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, her cellphone began to ring. She rolled her eyes and glanced at it before answering.

“Hello?” She greeted. You raised an eyebrow but she paid you no mind, instead deciding to get up and leave the room.

You strained to listen to her conversation with the unknown on the other line but couldn’t.

“Hey, Frisk.” Flowey’s tone irked you. He sounded like a misbehaving child and for one reason or another it felt nostalgic, but it also felt annoying. He was _annoying._

“Frisk, pal, look at me.”

You flicked your eyes over to him, your mild irritation turning to confusion when he flinched.

“F-Frisk… Take it easy, okay?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you nodded in agreement anyway. He seemed to go limp with relief when you flashed him what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

For a second he’d seen something he’d never hoped to see again. He wasn’t the pacifist type, but he wasn’t the genocide type, either. He was a product of nature versus nurture where nurture had gone wrong and he had no nature.

But he could feel emotions like fear, anger, hatred, amusement. He wasn’t so sure about things like happiness and love, but maybe someday he would know…

What he felt right then, when you’d looked into his eyes, was fear. Pure and unadulterated fear.

Your eyes hadn’t been the sweet and loving neutral color they were normally, no, they’d been red.

Your eyes had been bright, bloody, red.

But then you blinked and the moment was gone.

And even for someone like him. Even for some soulless being like himself. That little detail made his non existent heart squeeze in fear.

He didn’t want to do anything to upset you, he didn’t want to see the other side of the story held deep within your soul. He didn’t want to watch those kind eyes turn hateful and spiteful, burning red with anger. He didn’t want to see the other you.

He seemed ready to say something and you waited, confused by his worried expression, but before he could Toriel returned, her face darkened with some odd mix of pity and sorrow.

“Frisk, my child, I am so sorry. They were doing the best they could, you must remember that, my dear. Please, stay strong. Stay determined.” Her words were shaky and sad, and the grimace on her face made your insides squirm with worry. What had the phone call been?

“Sans just called me with… Frisk, please come here.” You stood awkwardly and she wrapped you up into a hug.

“They found your mother’s body… I am so sorry, my dear. They found her… but… they also found a member of the group responsible for these crimes, my child. It will be okay, they will save the others…” She set you down, her furry paws cupping your face as she looked at you with concern, "They will save the others," she repeated, more to herself than you.

You laughed out of shock, feeling more confused than anything else. Toriel was watching you intently, looking more and more concerned. “Frisk, dear, your mother, she’s dead.”

You tried to stifle the hysterical laugh that was bubbling from your mouth, “She’s not my mother,” was the only response you could give.

“My child, I’m so sorry, are you okay, little one?”

Your first thought was ‘I’m not little,” your second was ‘I should have put on matching socks, I can't have not matching socks on a day like today,” and your third thought was ‘She’s dead?’ Your brain was chugging along, slow as ever, trying to puzzle out the words that were clear as day.

“Are you alright, Frisk?” Her voice was sounding almost desperate, she just wanted a response—any indication of you being semi-functioning.

Were you alright? That was a good question. You weren’t alright, or maybe you were.

You felt kind of sadistically happy, as though finally all your suffering would be over at the death of the _thing_ that called herself your mother. You felt relieved. You felt a little angry too.

How _dare_ she die? How could she do that to you? You, who had spent so much time living in despair because of her. You, who had killed yourself because of her. You, who had been slapped, smacked, scratched, beaten, and bruised because of her. And now she was dead and you were supposed to care?

Why was it that everyone always pretended to care for the dead? Why did people suddenly decide to care? As though the deceased person never done a wrong thing in their life. As though they’d been sweet little angels, when really all they were was a wolf in sheep's clothing. People always mourned and cherished the dead. But why?

Death didn’t cleanse them of their sins. They… _She_ was still as awful as she had been all those years ago. Death didn’t save her. Death didn’t make her a better person. She _deserved_ to suffer—she didn’t deserve to die. She deserved to live and suffer and feel sadness and anger and anguish and everything she’d put you through.

She didn’t deserve your tears. You wouldn’t deign to cry over such an awful woman. A bitter part of you that may not have really been you to begin with hoped she’d hurt all over. You hoped she had suffered in death just as she had made you suffer in life.

You didn’t care. You didn’t want to care. You felt endlessly frustrated—endlessly angry.

You _hated_ her. You were _glad_ she was finally dead.

“I’m okay, mom.”

Toriel studied your face, but you kept it blank and impassive, not revealing the inner turmoil going on inside of you. She raised an eyebrow skeptically, her mouth turned down in a frown.

She didn’t question you further, instead, taking time to cook you your favorite meal and prepare cinnamon butterscotch pie for desert. She always did know how to cheer you up.

Except. The issue was. You didn’t need to be cheered up. After the initial reaction you felt an overwhelming amount of… nothing. Nothing at all.

Should you be sad? Should you be angry? Should you be glad?

Your emotions felt dulled, as though the world had lost color. It reminded you terribly of the dark days of depression. It reminded you of the timelines you’d gone without falling to the Underground—the timelines you’d never learned to live and always just went on day after day in a listless manner.

The world, as cliché as it seemed, was in grays, blacks, and whites. No vivacious colors to keep you interested in your surroundings. You didn’t feel the crushing sadness that sometimes came with depression, though.

Instead, you felt an emptiness you hadn’t been prepared for.

You felt an odd lack of self during all of this. You spent a lot of time watching the news, paying attention to family and friends just like you would normally. But it felt like you were on autopilot. Like you were playing some game but not really invested in the outcome.

You talked to Chara some, not a lot, hardly ever. Most of the time you talked to Flowey—Asriel—about Chara. He didn’t always seem happy to talk to you about it, but he tried his best to be helpful. It seemed he was as tired of resets and loads and saves as you were. It almost seemed like he was happy, despite how much he protested.

He even took to calling Toriel his mother. It was cute. Or, it would be. Maybe a week ago you would have thought it was cute… but if anything you felt indifferent. It didn’t really matter to you.

The passage of time was odd. You found yourself having difficulties remembering what you did the day before, or even what you’d done just an hour prior. Your brain felt scattered and muddled, as though someone was scrambling up a puzzle and forcing all the pieces to go together in correctly. The end result was a picture that didn’t make sense.

That’s how your memories were. A long story that didn’t make sense.

Sans sat beside you on your bed. He was holding your hand, tracing the lines on your palm with a gentle and boney finger. He left little toothy kisses along your arm up onto your shoulder, your neck, then your face. His breath was catching but you were unaffected.

You knew you should be though.

So you tried your best to pretend. You panted heavily when he nipped at your neck again and moaned quietly as he tangled his fingers in your hair. In a second he was straddling you, you pressed against the wall, your feet hanging off the side of the bed. He leaned down to catch your lips with his own non existent ones and used a spark of magic to deepen the kiss.

Your heart beat steadily and your mind was numb. _This was boring_. But so was everything else.


	40. To Kill or Be Killed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmpf////
> 
> [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/chichiluffsyou?ty=h)  
> [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

“I-isn’t this good, Sans? We don’t have t-to deal with curfew anymore…” She trailed off as she adjusted her glasses. “Plus, we’re allowed in places like the movie theater again… Undyne was v-very mad when she found out w-we couldn’t go watch that new action movie…” Alphys sighed, remembering the furious but cute Undyne’s wrath when they had been turned away from the cinema.

Sure, Sans was glad that the criminals had been caught finally, and monster’s names had been cleared of suspicion, but he couldn’t bring himself to be all that excited. After all, he had much more important things on his mind.

“it’s good, pal, but that’s not what i’m here about,” Sans replied shortly.

“O-oh! I’m s-sorry and here I’ve been just b-blabbering away!” She stuttered out awkwardly, hiding her blushing face beneath her claws.

Sans tried to hide his exasperation.

“alphys, i have to ask you some important… questions…”

“Oh,” was all she could say. There was worry in her eyes.

“the kiddo, frisk, they’d kill me if they knew i was talkin’ to ya, but you’re my last hope right now, so please, don’t hide details.”

She nodded, the slight worry and confusion on her face wavering to a different emotion. It was too quick for Sans to analyze, but it looked like regret and it looked like understanding. Alphys must have known more than she let on…

He shook that thought away, first he needed answers, then maybe he could ask her about the timelines.

“you created mettaton.”

She nodded, biting her lip awkwardly.

“you made flowey, too.”

It wasn’t a question but she nodded in confirmation anyway.

“flowey isn’t just a flower injected with a liquid determination, is he? there is something else there… something frisk won’t tell me.” His eyes narrowed slightly.

Her shoulders slumped, “No. He isn’t… I think Asgore knows the truth… does Frisk know too, then?”

Sans shrugged his skeletal shoulders and Alphys took that as an affirmative answer.

“This… it’s my fault… I just thought… to make the king happy again, to make the queen happy again. I thought I could bring Asriel back.” She paused, judging Sans reaction. His eyes flickered with recognition of the name and she could practically see the gears of his mind whirring into place.

“I used Asriel’s dust with the liquid determination and injected it into one of those golden flowers that the king so loved…” Her voice was a quiet sort of mournful, Sans wasn’t sure how to react.

He tried not to be too gruff as he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away anyways. “so flowey _is_ asriel?”

“Well, yes, and no. I didn’t get time to study him… he disappeared before I could… and… let me tell you, it was a shock to see him sitting on Toriel’s fireplace mantle as cheery as ever… it… it w-wasn’t… I w-wasn’t ex-expecting that at all.” Her stuttering was back as was her nervous reactions. She fiddled with one of the buttons on her lab coat, feeling overly self-conscious.

“thanks alph, now… i have some information… that isn’t going to be good to hear…” He took a deep breath; it was now or never. If he wanted to save you, to save this timeline, he needed to tell Alphys the whole story. Not just the condensed and filtered one, but the whole thing. Including the bad runs. Including Chara.

And so he started talking, his words coming slowly and with difficulty at first but the more he spoke of these experiences the easier it was to say it. Alphys was the perfect listener, asking questions for clarification, but otherwise being very attentive and quiet.

By the end of the discussion Sans felt spent, but he had more to say. More to ask. He needed to fix this. He didn’t want you to keep suffering.

The you he saw now compared to the you of just last week were two vastly different people and he wasn’t sure he liked this new and indifferent you compared to the irritable and angry you.

He just wanted… He wanted the _real_ you. The sweet and kind and endlessly patient you. The you that would laugh at his jokes with a twinkle in your eye. The you that flushed a brilliant shade of red whenever he kissed you.

He missed being able to hold your hand and feeling the pounding of your heart through your palm.

“i don’t know all of it. i don’t know everything about chara, but from what the kid tells me… chara is the original fallen child… all i really know is that right now? they’re back. they’re back and they’re occupying frisk again…”

Alphys wasn’t sure what to say, “So, Sans, what… w-what is it you want me to do?”

“ **I want you to kill Chara.** ”

“Sans, no, Sans… Th-that’s ridiculous… Do you h-hear yourself?” She sputtered out, surprised beyond words at his request, “I h-have hurt so many people, I c-can’t do it again… And you expect me to kill the first fallen child of all people?!” Her voice was getting higher in octave; her face was distressed.

“There has to be another… There… this… I can’t do this, Sans! You’re being unreasonable.”

The finality in her tone was something he didn’t want to hear and though he was trying very hard not to start threatening her, he felt like he was running out of options.

“you’re being unreasonable! it’s a fucking demon child, alphys, it doesn’t deserve to live!” He was yelling, and getting far too worked up, if only because he just wanted you to be okay. “alphys, please, what do i do?”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but before she could speak, Undyne opened the door and peered in. “I, uh, I heard shouting? Are ya hurtin’ my girlfriend, you punk?” She flashed a toothy grin but the gleam in her eyes was less friendly.

“N-no, Undyne, we’re fine! J-just… he… er, Sans s-said that the r-remake of Kissy Cutie was b-badly done and I g-got a little too heated!” Her face flushed red and she folded her hands over and over again in her nervousness. Thankfully Undyne took the bait and with one last threatening glare at Sans, she left.

“they’re a parasite… attached to frisk’s soul… and i’m running out of options. no bones about it… heh…” He couldn’t even fully appreciate his own pun; he was just far too stressed.

Alphys seemed deep in thought and he could tell she was trying to figure something out. He stayed silent as she began to bustle around the room, looking through the various notebooks that were strewn around the room. She started mumbling something and it took Sans a moment to realize she was actually talking to him.

He leaned forward to listen, “I have a copy of the notes. You know how it is, science, notes, research, you can’t just destroy those notes, no matter how horrible…” She threw one notebook down and picked up another, leafing through the pages with deft claws, “Flowey… Flowey… The mystery golden flower, Mettaton… here! Ah, here it is…”

She looked at Sans, her eyes bright, “I have my notes, getting rid of important notes like that isn’t… even if bad things… it isn’t…” She was rambling, looking slightly guilty, but Sans was losing patience.

He cut her off, “get to the point,” she stopped abruptly looking almost affronted and he grit his teeth as he whispered a frustrated, “please.”

“Based on what you and Frisk have discussed and what I know… Chara and Asriel shared bodies at one point, there may still be pieces of Chara inside of Asriel… or, Flowey… and… I think I have enough information to take a soul from one being and… ‘transplanting’ it into another…” She stopped suddenly, glancing up at Sans, “it’s all just theory though… maybe Flowey doesn’t… er, Asriel… maybe he has nothing left of Chara… and that’s… that’s why Chara can h-have so much power over Frisk…”

Sans eyes narrowed, urging her to finish, and she hurried to explain, “I just mean that… we… we could put one soul into the soulless Flowey… and… even if Flowey has pieces of Chara left… then… that… well…”

“you mean to… combine them?”

“I don’t want… to kill anyone else… and if Flowey has learned to live in a somewhat peaceful manner… why… why not give the fallen child a chance… I mean… I know it sounds crazy, but, everything you said sounded crazy too! So, I mean, if… well, if we could avoid hurting anyone… I… I don’t know, why are you asking me this? This is insane!” Her voice was sounding more and more stressed and Sans waved his hands in an attempt to get her to quiet down.

“i know, i’m sorry to push this onto you, i wouldn’t if i had another choice…”

“I would like to talk to Frisk about this… and Flowey…”

Sans nodded, “can do.”

He wasn’t happy with Alphys’ plan, but it was better than anything he could do on his own. With luck it would work… with luck… Frisk could be saved. This timeline could be saved.


	41. Soulful or Soulless?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //internal screaming// //external screaming// //eternal screaming//
> 
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>  [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)

You were in your room, an old stuffed animal clenched in your arms, sitting across from Flowey. His expression was… odd, to say the least. He looked a kind of weird happy, but almost in a begrudging kind of way. Like he didn’t want to admit his happiness, he didn’t want to admit he liked hanging out with you.

He didn’t like to admit he felt worried about you, either.

You perched a mirror on his pot, making it reflect your face. “Tell me again why you’re doing this?” His voice sounded bored, but strained, like he was only pretending none of this mattered for your sake.

You’d been so passive lately, not even teasing him or talking to him with the infinite kindness he, Asriel, had gotten used it. You were so different, so _indifferent_ , and it reminded him too much of himself. You had this air of boredom around you like any moment you might give up on this game and play a new one.

Maybe your current state bothered him so much only because it reminded him of himself. Because there was a time he didn’t care. Where nothing mattered. Nothing truly ever mattered because with little more than just a thought he could go back and replay and retry.

Your voice broke him from his musings, “Flowey, can you call my soul?”

His eyes narrowed and he wriggled his petals uncomfortably, “why?”

“Don’t be a brat, just answer,” you said quickly.

“Nuhuh, wanna know why.”

You rolled your eyes, and asked again, your voice dipping a little in order to sound more pleading, “please, Flowey, I just… I want to see it.”

He sighed, a muttered a quick “fine” before concentrating. Before you knew it the colors in the room dulled as the familiar red heart shaped soul appeared from your chest. It hovered in front of you and you studied it closely.

It was darker than you remembered. But not totally—like paint mixed improperly, there were swirls of your soul’s natural color, and swirls of a darker red mixed in. The oddest part about it all was the black hairlines fractures you could see within it.

That wasn’t good.

You shrugged, neither concerned nor surprised at the sorry state of your soul. If anything, it was more or less what you’d expected it to be. It was unnatural and not fully yours.

Flowey, however, seemed way too concerned. Maybe he was just making up for your lack of concern—your apathy. And while you know this lack of feeling was bad, while you know it was unhealthy. You _know_ it was a sign of worse to come. It just… You just… It was so much easier… it was so much more preferred than being angry.

Because if you let your anger out… bad things would happen. Your—was it yours?—anger was like a fire, burning fast and hot and furious. It was like lava, slow, intense, and burning with intent. It was like a vicious snake coiled and ready to strike. It was all of this. It was all of this and more. So much more. It was a feeling that once you got it… it just kept growing and growing and you weren’t even sure why but it wouldn’t go away and yeah, you knew you were being irrational but you were so…

You were so _angry._

But now you didn’t have to deal with that. At least, not totally… sometimes, sometimes you could feel it burning beneath the surface and you know that one wrong action or word or… anything… would bring it up and bubbling to the surface and it’d never end.

It was much easier to be indifferent. It was much easier not to care. It would save them in the end, right? It would save everyone, yeah?

 _“It’s normal, Flowey, don’t worry.”_ It wasn’t your voice that came out. Or at least, it wasn’t totally your voice. It was a mix of something deeper, something harsher, something older while still being child-like. Flowey flinched at the sound and you felt a manic laugh bubble from your chest. Again, it wasn’t yours, but it was. It was like two people speaking at once, like hundreds of people speaking at once, all of them being you and all of them being Chara.

They… you… together… were talking about the soul floating in front of you. It was still hovering there, the colors swirling around endlessly. The little fractures seemingly to pulse an eerie white before fading back to black.

You mumbled quietly, “I don’t like it.” Flowey nodded and you glanced into the mirror in time to see one eye flashed red and half a smirk settled on your face. Figured… figured they would think it funny.

But it wasn’t like it mattered in the end… there was no saving you… so why worry? Things were just going to run their course until you either won or had to be put down.

 _Put down._ The thought made your shudder.

But it made you curious. What would it be like to die? What would it be like to die and not come back? Or to die and come back? Would Sans remember? Would Toriel know that you preferred cinnamon? Would Papyrus remember you attempting his many, many puzzles, or Undyne remember that she burned her house down attempting to cook? Would Alphys remember that you had forgiven her for the amalgamates…?

But more importantly, what would it be like to die? Would they cry?

You weren’t sure. Sans might be sad, but even then, you weren’t all that sure… _We can always find out._

No. You told yourself. No. You would not. You couldn’t do this.

You heard the doorknob wiggle and instinctively you lunged forward to hide your soul. Flowey let it absorb back into your body and the two of you settled down into more relaxed positions before the door opened to reveal a grim looking Sans and a nervous Alphys.

“hey babe. mind if we talk for a bit? the weed, too…”

You grimaced, eyes flicking over to Flowey, before nodding. He didn’t say anything—didn’t even protest at being called a weed.

“Actually, Sans, I’d l-like to talk to them on my o-own…” Alphys cut in before you could even get up; Alphys didn’t wait for Sans to respond either and darted in the room to close the door behind her.

“Frisk…” Her tone of voice was worryingly even and you weren’t quite sure what to say. Something about her guarded expression made you feel very cautious. “Is… Frisk… Why…? Why did you do that to us?”

What? _She knows._ You clenched your hands in fists and regarded her evenly, _“Alphys, you’ll have to be more specific.”_ Your voice was a cobbled together mix of yours and Chara’s. It was a deathly whisper and eerie screech; it was a child’s voice yet not. It was thousands of voices of thousands of children—the same children—who had died in a thousand different ways. They were all you. They were all Chara. They were all.

And Alphys, bless her heart, didn’t falter. Though, in hindsight, she’d been the creator of the amalgamates and of Flowey so she’d obviously done some messed up things. She obviously was used to seeing the fucked up things in life.

And you realized; you were fucked up. You were fucked just in general. Nothing about this was okay. You were letting what was thought to be a demon control your voice. You were letting it sit and fester in your body and you weren’t even that concerned.

But it was like a floodgate broke somewhere. All those held back emotions pushed their way forward, and tears sprung to your eyes. “Alphys… there’s something wrong with me.”

“F-Frisk” her voice wavered, uncertain now that you were visibly upset, “Sans told me everything he knew… And I can put the rest together on my own… it only makes sense…” She spared a quick glance at Flowey, raising a claw in an awkward sort of hello.

He didn’t bother with formalities, but instead watched you with a blank expression on his face. He could vaguely see your soul even while it was inside your body. The swirling darker red had seeped into the blackness of the cracks marring your soul. Your heart-shaped soul was held together by that bitter dark red. Your soul was held together by what he could only assume was Chara’s remaining essence.

“A-Alphys” you whimpered out, “I’m so sorry… it wasn’t… I didn’t mean to! Please, I didn’t mean to do it!”

She raised a hand, lowering her eyes, “Frisk, I was… I was shocked… I was angry… but I’m not anymore… You forgave me for the awful thing I did to you… and Frisk…” She stopped, swallowing thickly, “you had to live through so much pain… you had to remember all of this, didn’t you? I don’t… I’m sorry… Sans said… you… he… the two of you wake up from nightmares sometimes…”

You nodded and she continued, “He said he killed you. He said… a-all of us had killed you… and y-you s-still w-want to be o-o-our f-friends? F-Frisk, th-that’s… y-you’re… Frisk, we love you…” Her voice cracked and she had to pause again, attempting to stifle the sobs that were shaking her shoulders.

_She’s just pretending. She’s waiting for you to put your guard down. They want to put us down like the rabid dog we are._

Alphys cried quietly and you felt torn between staying put and going to comfort her. Eventually what little of your conscious that was left won out and you stood up and gave her a tight hug. You whispered, your tone betraying your inner remorse, “I killed you too… and I’m afraid sometimes that I’ll lose contro—” You weren’t able to finish your sentence, and you coughed, clutching at your throat. The words “lose control and do it again” unable to free themselves.

‘Chara,’ you reprimanded, ‘they already know, there’s no point in hiding it…’

Alphys seemed to take in your appearance and the slight furrow of your brows. A sort of understanding was lit behind her eyes and she meekly asked, “The child… er… Chara… they can hear us?”

You nodded.

“Can I see your soul?”

You nodded again.

Alphys closed her eyes, her own brows furrowing with concentration. And suddenly there it was yet again, your swirling misshapen and tainted heart-shaped soul. She seemed to be trying her best not to flinch away from the embodiment of you and Chara’s combined self.

“Can I t-touch it…?” She asked quietly, reaching a clawed hand toward the soul. You frowned and tried your best not to just push her away. “Fascinating…” she murmered as she cradled the thrumming red shape in her claws. She seemed to be lost in thought as she stared at it intently.

“A-Alphys?” You said between clenched teeth, trying not to gag at the odd sensation of her touching your soul like she was. It was… an indescribable pressure on your body and you were struggling to breath with the strange new sensation.

She glanced at your strained face and suddenly your soul disappeared back into your body.

“S-sorry Frisk, got carried away… By all means… your soul is an anomaly and… well, anyways… that’s… I have to talk to you about some things…”

You shrugged, words were feeling too difficult at the moment.

She began to talk, more in depth, about all the things Sans had told her, and whatever Sans had missed, you filled in with the little details you remembered.

Then the talk turned clinical and you tried not to take it personally—after all, this was a chance in a lifetime to study someone with not just one soul but potentially two souls in their body. Or at least, a soul and a partially fractured one.

She was asking you all sorts of questions. Some of them reminded you of the questionnaires doctors would give you to talk about your depression or anxiety—something you’d had to do a few timelines ago; one of those timelines you’d never fallen to the Underground.

On a scale from one to five how much did these things affect your daily life? You could feel Chara’s laughter bubbling up from your throat but you stopped yourself from making a sound.

Despite the too-personal questions, you did your best to answer, and for once, Chara wasn’t intervening. If anything, they seemed just as interest as you were about where this would lead. Flowey, meanwhile, quietly listened in—for once not adding his own snarky commentary.

“Frisk, we’re going to have to take you to the lab and run some tests. You will be sedated for a lot of them in order to monitor… the… to monitor Chara without your consciousness intervening. We will keep you safe. Please show up at my house no later than eight in the morning.”

You were taken aback by her businesslike tone and the abruptness of her orders, but agreed to her terms any way. She moved toward the door, paused, flicked her eyes over to Flowey, and spoke once more “bring Flowey, too.”

And with that she was gone and you and Flowey were left to stare after her. That was the most confident you’d ever seen her. The sciences were definitely where she was in her element.

The door opened once more with Sans standing awkwardly in the frame, he looked at you, his dark eyes filled with concern. You gave a hesitant smile and that was all the permission he needed in order to scoop you up and into his arms. He hugged you tight, and you let yourself be hugged.

Chara chided you in the back of your mind but you ignored their whining.

This wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay.

But hopefully, it would be.


	42. I Can Save Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hOO BOY. HOO bOY. We are SO close. SO CLOSE. to the end. (hope ya'll liked it)

“it’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay. you won’t feel a thing, we’re just gonna draw some blood, run some tests, maybe look at your soul a bit… but it’ll be okay… just…” He paused, his hand tightening around your own clammy one.

“stay determined.”

You let your eyes flutter shut and continued to try and breathe as deeply as possible with what you assumed was an oxygen mask on your face. You could feel the cold hard metal of the table through the thin white sheet you were currently lying on top of. Sans had been sitting beside you for the past half hour gently stroking your hair and holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. If you didn’t know better you’d think you were about to die…

But they said it was just a few tests… that it wasn’t dangerous. They said it’d be an hour at most…

Could you actually believe them?

_I wouldn’t put it past them to lie to us…_

Your eyes opened again, and you studied his face, trying to gauge his expression. You saw his dimmed pupils and the concern that was in his face.

You were trying so hard to ignore the doubt in your mind and just believe Sans, but… the fear you saw in his eyes made your own anxiety spike. His face… it… it looked like he might never see you again. And despite the roller coaster your emotions had been on the past couple weeks, you had enough control to feel a deep set fear.

You were afraid of what was to come.

Alphys stuck you with a needle, some oddly grey looking liquid now being pumped into your bloodstream. Your eyes opened and closed again, opened and closed, opened… then closed… and you felt your consciousness fade.

Sans could swear that he’d never felt so afraid in his life before. He’d been through so much with you. He’d watched you die so many times. Even in this timeline alone he’d seen you so close to death not once, but twice, maybe even three times…

Alphys was taking everything in stride, it was actually quite shocking. She certainly was taking the information about timelines better than he ever had. It made him wonder… did she remember more than she let on?

He shook the thought away. That didn’t matter right now.

What mattered was your limp hand clasped gently between his own skeletal ones and the slow and low heartbeat he felt pulsing from your body. Maybe it was because he was so close to you, or maybe it was because his soul was so in tune with yours, but he could feel your heartbeat, he could feel the weak fluttering of your tainted but still beautiful soul.

You looked so peaceful, but the tubes protruding from your thin wrist and the mask covering half your face ruined the serene look on your face.

He felt so sick lying to you.

But he didn’t know what to do. If he told you the truth, then Chara would know as well… and him and Alphys had decided it would be better to leave Chara in the dark… which meant… leaving you in the dark as well.

They didn’t know whether or not Chara would fight back… and there was still the possibility of something going wrong.

Flowey was removed from his pot and placed onto a small metallic table beside you. It was weird to see him out of the ground and sitting there with such a worried expression on his face. If only you could see how much even the soulless little weed cared for you.

He was glad he knew the truth finally. He was glad you’d felt comfortable enough to both confide in him and in Alphys. He… he still had anger about the timelines… about the resets… and maybe he’d always have that, but he knew you. He knew you’d suffered from them just as much. If not more.

He knew the guilt you felt. He could see it in your eyes, your actions, in your very soul. And maybe he couldn’t forgive the actions, but he could forgive you. He’d always forgive you. He’d always love you.

Alphys was puttering around in the background, muttering to herself while she consulted a clipboard in clutched in her claws. He watched her as he continued to stroke your hair.

“It’s time, Sans, I’m going to draw some blood for starters…” Flowey perked up as Alphys spoke and she flicked her eyes over to him.

_You were so peacefully asleep. It was blissful, it was dark, it was quiet. It was as calm as you’d ever been._

_You stood alone in a darkness that wasn’t anything more than empty space. There was no crushing weight of the consequences of your choices. There was no judgement. There were no mistakes. There was nothing but you… and… and something else._

_Something else small and quivering and quiet… and scared._

_You tried move but found your feet stuck a floor you couldn’t see. You looked back at the quivering figure and blinked when you realized you were suddenly much closer to them. They seemed to be the form of a child… but they looked like an adult. They looked like a male. They looked like a female. Their form was wavering and switching and changing constantly. Like they couldn’t decide who they were, what they were, or why they were._

“Draw their soul out, we need to look at it.”

“okay alph, whatever ya need, pal.”

Flowey looked on, his face moving from worried to a more impassive expression.

_You felt a tug and gasped at the sudden inpouring of light into the darkness you’d once been submersed in. The weeping figure was also pulled out._

_They looked up and around, finally seemingly to realize where they were. Then their glassy blank eyes met yours and they shrieked._

_You looked at them and their writhing form. Despite the fact that they stood still they were in constant motion. Like their body couldn’t decide what to be. The eyes, though, the eyes sent shivers of fear down your spine._

_“Chara?” You whispered questioningly._

_All at once their form solidified into that of an androgynous child—they looked to be missing half of an arm and half of a leg. A large chunk of their side was also gone. It disturbed you to no end to see this patchwork child standing in front of you._

_“Yes?” They asked, their voice much older than their childlike face would suggest._

_“What… what is this?” You asked, far too meekly._

_“This is you, this is me,” they supplied unhelpfully._

_You frowned, confusion spreading across your features._

_“You are your soul. You’re looking inside yourself for once. And this is me, this incomplete mess, is me…” they pause, a smirk on their face, “though, honestly, I’m doing better than you seem to be.”_

_“Wha—?” You glanced down at your body and realized part of your arm was dripping and falling away, the same happening to your leg._

_“I was incomplete. I’ve always been incomplete. But I have some of you now… your determination. Your love. They helped me…” Chara trailed off, looking almost remorseful as they glanced at their missing arm, “do you realize what they’re going to do?”_

Sans was cradling your soul to his chest as Alphys fluttered around it, inspecting the black and dark red cracks. “They don’t look like mere cracks. They look like the fractures were caused by an intrusion… it’s like a root system…”

She paused, “the dark red belongs to Chara, I assume, right?” Sans shrugged in response, he wasn’t sure, but it made the most sense.

“It is like a parasite… like veins growing onto Frisk’s soul and… feeding off of it…”

_“They’re going to kill us.” Chara stated simply, “they’re going to kill you because they know they can’t control you.”_

_“No!” You yelled, and it seemed to have an effect as Chara flinched away._

_“We can still go back, Frisk…” They offered, looking at you with something akin to fear in their eyes._

_And for a moment the offer was tempting. But you remember. You remembered the pain of being born anew into a world set against you. You remembered the pain of realizing what a mother was and what a mother wasn’t. You remembered the pain of giving up and finding yourself Underground, hurt, broke, sore, crying, and scared._

_You remembered the care Toriel had given you. You remembered the unconditional love she’d showed you—the idea of love being such a foreign concept, yet somehow you were able to love her like you’d been doing it your whole life._

_You remembered the skeleton brothers. Papyrus, his cheery self confidence that hid a sort of loneliness you also felt. Sans, his quiet support and bad puns hiding a self who had given up so long ago, reflecting the you that had also given up._

_You remembered Undyne who was so fiercely loyal that she was willing to kill to save her people. You remembered her awkward but true love for Alphys. You remembered the aggressive way she showed her love—the only way she knew how to show herself._

_You remembered the quiet and scared Alphys. The small lizard monster who was afraid of the truth. The one who worked so hard to save those monsters—who cared so deeply—who was so passionate. The one who forgave you, who understood both your mistakes and flaws and accepted you any way._

_You remembered Flowey who tormented you all along your journey. You remembered Asgore, a broken king who had just wanted to free his people, a tired father who’d lost his children._

_You remembered Asriel. You remembered their anger. Their sadness. Their fear. Their overwhelming loneliness. And in them you saw a reflection of yourself. You saw a mirror image of yourself. It was what you saw in Chara, as well._

_You, who was filled with love, was the mirror image of Chara, who was filled with LOVE. Opposite, equal, and the same._

_You remembered Asriel’s confusion as you reached with your soul to save them—just as you’d saved everyone else. You remembered his tears and sobbed apologies as you moved to hug him, to show him your forgiveness._

_You remembered that he, like Chara, was just a lost child looking to be saved._

_And at that moment, you could feel Chara’s despair. They were empty, heartless, and filled with a hopeless sort of anger. All of their fear, their worry, their hate… was born from their overwhelming desperation. Their unhappiness._

_Their emptiness._

_“I can save everyone.”_

The soul was pulsing and it pushed itself from Sans’ clasp to hover over your limp body. The light red that was the embodiment of your determination pulsed again and again. Something was happening and it had nothing to do with the preparation Alphys and Sans had prepared. It had nothing to do with their plans to extract Chara’s essence. It had nothing to do with any of that.

Each pulse of the bright red pushed back the tendrils of black and dark red. The tendrils pulsated equally intensely, as though they were trying to split the fragile heart shaped soul.

They realized they were watching the weight of your determination. They were watching the strength of Chara’s LOVE.

The souls, for now they could see there were definitely two souls—both equally as broken—were splitting apart, as though the red was pushing away the black.

And with a loud crack, the two split. Now they could see the true shape of the vein-like red and black tendrils that had pierced the very core of your being. It was the framework for a very empty soul. And your true soul, the red heart shaped soul looking very weak and dim.

Before Sans could react to the separation of the two souls, the black tendrils of what they assumed to be Chara’s soul faded to a light gray.

It pulsed with a bright white light, looking for a moment as pure and healthy as a normal soul, before crumbling to dust.

It was gone… the demon… the child… Chara’s soul was gone. All that was left was a powdering looking ash.

Your soul hovered shakily above where your heart lay, the cracks that had formed from pushing away Chara’s essence were growing larger with each passing moment until it looked about to burst.

**_B U T I T R E F U S E D._ **


	43. The Weight of Our Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twO UPDATES IN ONE DAY??
> 
> Okay, I'm sorry! But I hope you like them any way. In case it isn't clear, this chapter is going into detail about what happened between Chara and Frisk LAST chapter! So, I hope you all like this/// Only two more chapters and our story is complete! //screams//

_“I can save everyone,” you muttered again, your eyes filled with determination as you met Chara’s own cold, lifeless stare._

_“You really ARE an idiot,” they screeched, their eyes glowing red._

_You felt a shift in the blank white area the two of you were situated in, and the fierce look of anger, fear, remorse, hatred in Chara’s eyes reminded you of a certain someone else… a small, scared, and lost child…_

_In that moment, Chara reminded you so much of the tortured Asriel… and you suddenly knew just what to do. You could call it what you will ‘fate,’ ‘fortune,’ or ‘destiny,’ you knew this was meant to happen. You were always meant to confront Chara broken soul to broken soul._

_This was different than a fight between a monster and a human and though, Chara wasn’t exactly human anymore, they also weren’t a monster. You watched them with trepidation, clenching and unclenching your fists as you stared. Their eyes were catlike, watching your movements with a predator’s intent._

_Two fractured souls standing face to face, one prepared to destroy everything and one dreaming to save everyone._

_You just hoped your determination was strong enough._

_Chara darted toward you and pushed you back. You latched onto them as you fell and they toppled on top of you. Their hand swiftly wrapped around your neck and began to squeeze. You could see desperation in their eyes._

_They were going to choke you, you realized, they were intent on killing you there and then. The pressure on your soul was unfathomable, and you gasped out a helpless, “Chara… please…” as your own hands scrabbled uselessly at their arm._

_“You know… Frisk… I don’t really care about destroying this world anymore… After I kill you? Ha… I’m just going to go back. I just want to go back to the beginning again…”_

_They laughed mercilessly, “Everything you’ve done, all the memories you’ve made? I’ll destroy them… And then we can do everything ALL over again…”_

_Your hands weakly pushed at their face, attempting to move them away from you, but it was too hard. They were too strong. Your determination wasn’t strong enough. Their LOVE. Their hate… it would win._

_“And you know what? You’ll DO it. You’ll lose to me. And you’ll live this life again, and again. And again!”_

_A smile was plastered on their face and you could feel their excitement at the prospect, “Because you want your ‘happily ever after,’ because you ‘love everyone,’ because you can…” They trailed off, their eyes filled with an unnamed emotion—something like pity, perhaps._

_“You think you can ‘save everyone’… ha… haha, pathetic.”_

_Their fingers squeezed more tightly around your throat and you could feel your lifeline dim slightly, “I’m going to take my timeline back.”_

_You could feel yourself losing it. You could feel them taking your soul from you. You could feel them finally getting what they wanted once and for all._

_But you **r e f u s e d**._

_Maybe it was the knowledge that your friends were relying on you, or that this really would be the end if you gave up now, or maybe that you knew… you knew somewhere deep down that Chara was just as tired as you were…_

_They wanted to give up just as much as you did._

_You couldn’t let your family down. You couldn’t let your friends down. You loved them too much to let yourself fail here. You loved Toriel. Asgore. Undyne. Alphys. Papyrus. Mettaton. Nabstablook. You loved every monster and every person big and small._

_You loved Sans, and he loved you, too. You could do this for him. You could do this for them._

_And so you refused and you pushed and you fought—with a sudden flood of determination you threw Chara back. You could feel your ethereal body pulsing with the determination that coursed through your soul._

_“No, Chara… It doesn’t have to be like this!”_

_And for the first time you saw nothing but fear in their eyes, in their face, in their deformed soul. There was no anger, no emptiness, no hatred, no LOVE. There was only fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what would happen if they finally just let go._

_They were afraid of you, afraid of themselves, afraid of being alone._

_You took a step toward them and watched as they faltered. The pulsing of you, of your soul, made them retreat further back._

_“Chara, I understand… it will be okay…” You reached out a glowing hand and they flinched as though burned, “Chara, just trust me, okay?”_

_They were shaking and quivering, “What are you doing…?”_

_You bent and grabbed one of their small hands in your own and you could feel the confusion echoing in their soul. You pushed your own feelings toward them._

_The feeling of your love for your friends spread outwardly to encompass Chara’s cowering form… the happiness you felt when you were with Toriel, or Sans, or Papyrus… you gave them the sadness you felt sometimes, and the worries that this would all end—you gave them everything._

_You gave Chara a taste of what it was like to feel and it sparked something deep within their tormented soul._

_Their body twitched, beginning to glow its own shade of dark red rather than being shaded and covered in a black hue._

_“Wha… what did you do?” They asked, voice cracking with fear, “what’s this feeling…? What’s happening to me?”_

_You kneeled beside them, placing a tentative hand on their face._

_“No! What are you doing? STOP! I don’t need ANYONE!” They cried out, panic in their tone, “Get away from me! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!” They slapped your hand away and pushed you away._

**_“I’LL KILL YOU ALL!”_ ** _Their screech echoed around the empty space and the flinched at the sound._

_You took a deep breath, eyes filled with patience and understanding, “Why, Chara? Why have you done this?”_

_“I was going to be a HERO, Frisk, I was going to be SOMEONE worth knowing.” They yelled, fury in each word. “I was going to make the WORLD proud… I was going to make my mother proud…” They battered their tiny fists against your chest, and you pulled Chara to you, cradling them in your arms._

_They laughed, the sound hysterical and broken. It turned to sobs. “I saw you… I saw you fall. You fell right onto the bed of flowers I was buried beneath… and I knew that you were the reason I’d never moved on… the reason I was still clinging to this earth…”_

_“You and that crybaby of a brother…” Chara smiled, the expression looking foreign on their face._

_“I saw you and I knew… I just knew that you and I were more alike than we’d like to admit…”_

_A whimper escaped their lips and tears sprang to their eyes._

_“Frisk… why? Don’t you realize why I’m doing this?” They pushed away from you, but you continued to hold on any way._

_Silence fell between the two of you as you studied one another as tears ran lazily down their face._

_“I need you… You’re special, Frisk… You’re the only one who understands me… You’re the only one… the only one I can…” their voice trailed off as they sniffled, fresh tears spilling down their cheeks. Tentatively you reached an arm out and grabbed their hand with your own._

_“It’s not just that… I… I care about you… I care about you! You understand all that I went through! We’re the same, you and I,” Chara’s voice cracked and your hand tightened on theirs._

_“I’m not ready for this to end. I’m not ready to leave… so please, stop… just… let me win…”_

_Their eyes met yours, pleading for you to just give up already._

_“Frisk… I’m… so alone… I’m so afraid…”_

_You moved closer, pulling them back into your arms and squeezing them in a hug._

_“I’m sorry,” they whispered._

You felt a tug on your soul and you watched as Chara crumpled in your arms. They clutched desperately at you weeping softly for a moment before pulling away. They had a soft and relieved smile on their face. And slowly they began to fade away.

The pain of losing them was indescribable.

As though someone had taken hold of each limb and started to pull and pull and pull until you were sure you’d be torn into pieces. You could feel your soul start to fall apart. Without the tendril’s of Chara’s corruption to hold you together there was nothing left. You were going to die. Your soul would crumble and there would be nothing left of you.

A part of you wanted to just let go, just like Chara had, and let yourself pass. You wanted to float away and give up on everything you’d ever worked for. Life could go on without you.

But you couldn’t let yourself die here.

You could feel it. The hopes and dreams of everyone. You could feel their determination in your own and realized that despite the emptiness in your soul you couldn’t give up.

It was over, but you weren’t quite done yet.

_Y O U R S O U L R E F U S E D._


	44. The Weight of Your Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter. Wow, I'm honestly... I'm honestly amazing I made it this far. I loved writing this, and I love you lovely readers who have stuck with me the entire journey. These last two chapters will be shorter, and not entirely happy, but I hope you understand, there isn't always a perfect ending, but there IS a certain happiness people can find, even in the hardest of times.
> 
> For more story updates or if you'd like to contact me or make requests (for pairings or the like), follow me on [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)! (Also I'll be drawing some potentially nsfw Sans/reader...) 
> 
> If you'd like to donate to me (which would be beyond incredible) you can donate here: [Donate](https://www.paypal.me/lucielu)  
> Or support me here: [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/chichiluffsyou?ty=h)
> 
> Again, as always, there is no pressure to do so.

You were sitting on the couch staring blankly at a turned off television. Your reflection in the black screen showed a person with puffy eyes, red from crying; it showed someone who was too thin from lack of self-care; it showed someone who was holding a sadness beyond words.

A cup of tea was clasped gently in one hand while you rested your chin on your other hand. The tea had long since gone cold and you’d mostly forgotten you’d ever had it.

There were a lot of things you seemed to forget.

Flowey was gone. Chara was gone. Sans hadn’t told you exactly what happened. All you really knew was that you’d been unconscious for a week. Or had it been two? You… couldn’t…. exactly recall.

Maybe it had been two weeks. That sounded more accurate.

You simply didn’t care all that much though, it was hard to bring yourself to care about anything when you felt so empty all the time. A part of your soul was missing. That wasn’t completely true, right? You had all of your soul, right? But…

A frown twitched at the edges of your lips and your brow furrowed.

The days came and went in a haze, and some were better than others.

Your mind was scattered across time and space.

Ever since Chara had been put to rest your memory had been deteriorating. Maybe it was because you’d spent too long playing with time—pushing pause, play, start, stop, reset. Maybe it was because Chara was gone, no longer there to hold you together. Maybe it was just how it was meant to be.

The timelines were gone, that much you were sure of, and though they had almost taken you with them, you were still here. Somehow. You’d gone through so much, everyone had, but you were all still here.

Your past was like an unfinished puzzle—the longer you took to complete it the more pieces were lost until finally you ended up with only the fragments of a picture, with no hope for recovery.

Your memories were all confused, fading slowly, broken and distorted. It was hard to know what was real and what was not sometimes. You were losing your sense of self, lost to the chaos of memories that weren’t even yours.

Sans did his best to help, keeping you company as you spent days in listless silence, staring blankly at a wall or door, waiting for the inevitable end of existence.

You no longer could tell what had happened within this timeline compared to the last one. You couldn’t tell what had happened five timelines ago nor what was happening now. It was as though every game was being played all at once; your head watching and rewatching the sequence of events without pause.

All of it. The timelines, the power, Flowey, Chara. You found it harder to think of them as individual concepts; instead the abstract ideas blending into something entirely intangible.

You were afraid of the day you would lose it all. Your memories, your hopes, your dreams. You felt that as each day passed slowly by like the last you were losing a little bit more of yourself.

And so, you’d begun to write. Pages upon pages, the ink staining your hands as you wrote every flash of memory you could down onto the paper. It took hours, days, weeks, months—you weren’t sure. But you knew you had to do it—had to write it down. Where your memory failed you, these pages would guide you.

Sans helped, he was ever so patience as you sat at your desk, hunched over and scrawling your messy story all over the notebook’s pages. He brought you a journal, the cover worn and well loved, the pages filled with information on the timelines you’d never known he’d remembered.

He’d explained it was the only way he kept track of things. That journal was his lifeline to sanity in the chaos the timelines had caused. He’d told you, promised you, that the blurred edges would fade eventually and leave you with a clear picture of what had happened… you just needed time, he said.

But you weren’t sure time was going to help.

There was a static in your head and heart that wouldn’t go away.

You were grateful for the quiet comfort Sans offered you—his unconditional love and affection so vividly clear in a time where everything else felt like a haze of confusion.

You’d officially resigned as ambassador of monsters, and per your suggestion, Alex had offered to step up as a temporary to help both Asgore and Toriel with proceedings until a permanent solution could be found. You supposed it was for the best, though you sometimes wished it hadn’t ended this way.

It was difficult. It was difficult to adjust to a life without Chara clinging on your soul, weighing it down with their presence. In some ways, you felt more free than ever, in other ways, you felt so alone and confined.

You’d cry all day, all night. The guilt, the fear, the memories becoming more clear in your dreams, so much more real in your sleep, different than when you were awake.

The tears, the screaming, the cursing, the yelling, the crying, it was uncontrollable. For as long as you’d been able to control the flow of time… you’d known of Chara—you’d unwittingly grown used to their presence—and you’d dreamt, you’d hoped, for a day where you could live without their influence.

You’d wished for a way to be rid of them once and for all.

Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? The happy ending you’d always dreamt of? No threats of RESETS?

But you had never felt so empty in your life—a part of you was gone. They’d infiltrated your life, your soul, and they’d taken a piece of you with them as they’d left.

There was a finality in this that you hadn’t been prepared for.

Mistakes would remain mistakes, the memories you made now were the only ones that counted. They couldn’t be changed. There was no going back—only moving forward. You could only go forward from here. And that was scary. It was terrifying.

It’d taken months. Months of time just slipping past you, and you, unable to hold on and find your footing. It wasn’t going to disappear. This was the reality of your world now, and it was hard to accept. But you’d get there eventually.

Because, despite everything, it was still you.


	45. The Weight of Nothing At All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter. I included this as an epilogue of sorts. A way to wrap up everyone's lives and explain (in short form) what has transpired as everyone (Frisk, mostly) gets used to the events that had occurred.
> 
> For more story updates or if you'd like to contact me or make requests (for pairings or the like), follow me on [Tumblr](http://chichiluffsyouao3.tumblr.com/)! (Also I'll be drawing some potentially nsfw Sans/reader...) 
> 
> If you'd like to donate to me (which would be beyond incredible) you can donate here: [Donate](https://www.paypal.me/lucielu)  
> Or support me here: [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/chichiluffsyou?ty=h)
> 
> Again, as always, there is no pressure to do so.

Years had gone by. You were twenty-five now, living in a small apartment with the love of your life. It was weird, in a way, after all that had happened, that you could still feel such strong love for your partner and for your family. But you did. You loved them. And you would always love them.

Papyrus lived on his own now, though he came by to visit so often that he might as well still be living with you and Sans.

But, he’d wanted to be “an independent young skeleton adult,” as he phrased it. Sans, though skeptical, had supported him at your insistence. You were proud of him—proud of both of them.

Papyrus had gotten a pet cat as well, to keep him company in his somewhat empty house. As far as you’d heard, the house wasn’t actually all the empty though. Mettaton, sweet, dear, obnoxious Mettaton took time off of his glamorous career whenever he could in order to spend time with the boisterous and GREAT Papyrus.

Secretly, you thought it was cute. Sans, however, was none too pleased with that particular pairing. He didn’t fight it though. Which was nice. You just wanted Papyrus to be happy, and Sans did too.

Asgore and Toriel were living together once more, though they had explained to you—as their surrogate child—that they were starting off being friends and nothing more. You’d been more than thrilled when they’d told you. You may or may not have started calling them by ship names, egged on by Alphys’ fangirling nature.

Your memories? Though they were mostly gone… and they were faded… you had the notes—you had your story written down, a physical copy of everything that had happened. It’d been a difficult decision, but you’d given it to Toriel.

She’d read it. You weren’t sure what you’d expected to happen… but… she’d forgiven you. She’d hugged you tight and you could feel her shake with sobs you hadn’t been entirely ready for. You’d been prepared for anger, for hatred, but she gave you forgiveness. She gave you mercy.

Alphys worked at a local college. She’d spent a lot of time getting her teaching degree and you’d never seen her so happy before. She loved teaching every day, being surrounded by people who enjoyed the same things she did. Undyne was a trainer at a gym part time, and though you knew she missed being in the Royal Guard, she also loved that there was no need for it anymore.

They were so happy. Alphys and Undyne lived together in a quiet home in a small suburb of the nearby city. You strived to have a healthy and cute relationship like theirs.

You helped Sans to pay the bills by working part time at Muffet’s bakery. Her pastries were quite popular within the small town she resided in. You enjoyed the work. It kept you busy, and made you feel useful. Plus, it was always a good time when Muffet was involved.

Even Napstablook visited on the occasion, his quiet and shy presence meshing well with Muffet’s outgoing nature and your own silent self. You loved the long workdays that distracted you from your worries and remembrances.

And on days like those, when the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, and your hands were covered in flour and dough, and your jeans had a smear of grape jelly… those days where you’d spent your time making and baking all sorts of foods… where you were exhausted after such a long day at work… those were the days you were the most excited to go home.

You loved going home to Sans who always had a meal prepared for you. He’d greet you with a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug before dragging you into the living room to sit down and relax. He’d bring you your plate, piled high with whatever he’d cooked that day—typically pasta, you’d had a craving for pasta, specifically spaghetti, ever since you’d lost Chara.

He knew that some days were worse than others regarding your memories and mind. There were days you would wake up remembering nothing at all. You’d hardly be able to remember your own name and he’d wake up right with you, never ending patience in his hollow eyes. He’d call in sick, and call Muffet for you. He’d sit with you and talk and talk and talk until his deep rumbling voice grew tired.

He’d explain to you what happened, what was going on, who you were, and who he was. And most of all, he’d hold you and tell you it’d be okay. It’d be okay someday even if it wasn’t okay today. And you would hug him tight. You’d cry into his shoulder, burying your face into the warmth of his jacket.

And he’d whisper quietly to you, again and again, “I love you,” “I love you,” “I love you”.

And you knew, deep within your soul, within your heart, within your mind, that you would be okay.

“frisk?” Sans called, a soft smile on his face.

You glanced up at him, the papers you’d been pouring over spilling from your hand, “yeah, Sans?”

“movie night?” He asked, bending over to scoop up the pages that you’d dropped. He skimmed through them briefly before placing them on the coffee table behind him. A gentle kiss was placed on your forehead. You hummed happily and leaned into his touch.

“Blankets and popcorn, yeah?”

He nodded and stepped away into the kitchen. You could hear the loud hum of the microwave and the telltale noise of kernels popping. You spurred yourself into action, gathering as many blankets and pillows as you could to shove onto the couch. The television was turned on a moment later as you settled yourself into your nest of blankets.

Sans came in a second later, a bowl full of popcorn clutched in his skeletal arms. He snuggled in beside you, balancing the bowl carefully on his lap.

A lone golden flower stood sentry in a small clay pot on the slightly dusty windowsill. It lacked a face, lacked a voice, lacked a life. By all means, it was an ordinary flower. But it was not. And it never would be.

Not to you, at least. Not to your broken memories—your shattered mind.

The flower served as a bitter reminder of what was lost. A bitter reminder of a tale you’d never have to relive. A reminder of what was gained… and what was lost.

And a reminder that above all, you would be okay.

Sans pulled you closer to him, his hand resting easily around your waist, and you sighed your contentment.

_The feeling of being loved… and the feeling of being able to love against all odds… it filled you with determination._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know these last two chapters were shorter than all the others, but I hope that it was still just what you guys had hoped for. You guys have stuck with me from the beginning of this crazy story to the end and for that I am so unbelievably grateful. Some of the comments you guys have left have brought me to tears. Not only are your words and support so kind, but it leaves me with a good feeling in my chest and a wish to write more and more and more.
> 
> I know there are parts of this story that can be improved, after all, writing can always be improved upon, but I'm proud of this. I'm proud of what I've created, and I hope you guys can enjoy it despite its flaws.
> 
> It had been so long since I'd written anything. I struggled heavily with depression and anxiety and these feelings left me unable to write, unable to draw, unable to do any of the things I used to love. And while I know I'm terribly out of practice, and I need to improve upon my writing a lot... I'm just... so thankful I was able to do this. It may not seem like a lot, just being a silly fanfiction and all, but it was so much fun to write and so much fun to interact with you guys...
> 
> ANYWAYS THATS ENOUGH MUSHY FEELINGS SHIT. I hope you liked it, honestly. Hah. I've embarrassed myself enough, I think.


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